


Tides Turning

by shions_heart



Series: Being Human [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Magic, Background IwaOi - Freeform, Demon Hunters, Demon/Human Relationships, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Friendship, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, Team as Family, Urban Fantasy, Violence, mentions of past akaken
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2018-11-11 13:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11148939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shions_heart/pseuds/shions_heart
Summary: The place is called Eastern Star Jewelers, a store where anyone, human or witch, can purchase charmed (or cursed) jewelry. When two demons from Hinokoku take control of the store posing as businessmen, the charms begin to go awry, harming those that wear them.Kuroo Tetsurou doesn't want to risk putting Kenma in contact with Hinokoku demons, but Kenma is tired of hiding. He wants to confront them and force them to leave the world he now calls home. But Akaashi Keiji and Konoha Akinori are powerful demons from his past, and they're not about to let anyone, traitor or hunter, deter them from their mission.But there may be one who can.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! The long awaited sequel to Being Human!
> 
> This is NOT a stand-alone fic, however, and you may need to read the first fic in this series ([Being Human: Origins](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8230024/chapters/18861145)) in order to understand everything that's going on.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the first chapter in this new journey~

The demon sits at the edge of the building’s rooftop, clawed feet dangling ten stories above the city below. Its large feathered wings are tucked in against its bare back, pale skin glowing whiter in the sunlight. Dark curling hair falls over its forehead, as it peers down at the citizens of Tokyo below. How small and insignificant they look from this height. Lifting a hand, it holds its thumb over a car, pressing lightly as though it could squash the vehicle from this height.

“My Lord Akarsa.”

Akarsa lifts its head. Its lieutenant, Konika, steps onto the roof’s railing to stand beside it. It’s wearing the same black loincloth as Akarsa, its wings fluttering closed against its back. Running along the side of its legs, torso, arms, shoulders, and neck are the words ‘Property of Akarsa’ tattooed in black ink. Akarsa has many demons under its command, but Konika is the only one the general trusted to bring along on this mission. Konika’s loyalty is unquestionable.

“I have located the witches we were told about. They work at a place called ‘Eastern Star Jewelers.’ As Lord Malikra said, they create charms protect humans and fellow witches.”

Akarsa moves to stand, turning toward Konika. The other demon lowers its gaze respectfully.

“The building itself appears safe for us,” Konika continues. “I do not believe it will be difficult to infiltrate.”

Akarsa nods. “We must find the Architect as soon as possible. Lord Malikra expects to—”

“Hey, hey, hey!”

A loud voice from the stairwell causes Akarsa to turn with a hiss. Its dark eyes narrow, as a tall, broad human with spiked black and silver hair steps onto the roof. His eyes are bright gold, and they blaze with triumph, as his gaze fixates on the two demons before him.

“I found you!” he crows. “I knew I would!”

He’s wearing a vest over his bare chest, and black tactical pants with bulging pockets. At his waist he carries a black whip, which he grabs now, unfurling it and shouting a spell. The whip begins to glow with golden magic.

Konika leaps in front of Akarsa, black wings extended. With a snarl, the demon jumps at the man, claws extended. It lowers its horns, the long, sharp points glistening. Although Konika is fast, the hunter sidesteps easily, cracking his whip across Konika’s back. The demon’s wings take the brunt of the attack, but Konika stumbles, turning back around with a scowl. It bares its sharp teeth and lunges forward once more.

The hunter’s back is now toward Akarsa, but the general makes no move to assist its lieutenant. It has faith in Konika’s abilities. Instead, it studies their opponent, as the two circle each other on the rooftop.

Despite the man’s ridiculous appearance, he moves with the ease and skill of someone who has fought for many years. The muscles beneath his tan skin constrict and release with each movement. His footwork is confident, each step taken without hesitation. His whip strikes with precision, twirling through the air with deadly speed, and with each loud _CRACK_ , he grins, his eyes wild with excitement. He truly is quite the specimen to behold.

Konika struggles to stay ahead of the whip, ducking and tumbling across the concrete. More than once it catches Konika’s wings, foot, or hand, and Akarsa purses its lips, as Konika’s attacks grow sloppy with frustration. This isn’t right. Konika’s fought many hunters in the past. Never before has the demon’s performance been this poor.

When Konika stumbles for the third time beneath the crack of the whip, black blood oozing from its many wounds, Akarsa steps forward.

“Stop,” it says in Japanese, its voice smooth and melodic.

Immediately, both Konika and the hunter freeze. Akarsa steps around the hunter, meeting him face to face. The man is breathing heavily, sweat beading his forehead. When his gaze meets Akarsa’s, he grins.

“The council said there were two demons skulking around Tokyo. You must be pretty high-ranking ones, huh? You don’t look like imps.” He glances between Akarsa and Konika. “I bet they’re going to pay me a lot for capturing you two!”

Akarsa raises an eyebrow. “You haven’t captured us.”

“Not _yet_ ,” the man says, smirking. With a flick of his wrist, faster than Akarsa can react, he wraps the whip around Akarsa’s torso.

The magic burns into Akarsa’s skin, keeping the demon in place. It stands stiffly, as Konika scrambles to its feet.

“My lord,” the lieutenant says, rushing forward.

“Stay,” Akarsa commands, and Konika halts abruptly. The demon purses its lips, frowning, even as it cradles its injured claws to its chest. Akarsa turns back to the hunter before him, tilting its head.

“Gotcha,” the man says with a grin.

Akarsa levels its gaze on the man. “You will release me and allow me and my companion to leave.”

The man’s expression falters. His wide eyes blink owlishly. “Huh?”

Akarsa frowns, channeling more magic into its voice. “You will release me and allow me and my companion to leave. You will forget you ever saw us. You will return to your council and tell them you could not find us.”

“But”—the man’s brow furrows—“why would I do that?”

Konika inhales sharply. “He’s resisting your voice?”

Akarsa struggles against the whip still wrapped around it. The damn magic must be affecting its own. Because of his confusion, the hunter’s grip has weakened, and Akarsa is able to slip out a hand. It reaches forward, grabbing the front of the hunter’s vest. It pulls him close, gathering all its strength to push as much magic as it can into its words.

“You. Will. Release. Me.”

Finally, the glazed look that’s supposed to enter Akarsa’s victim’s faces clouds the hunter’s expression. He takes a step back, uncurling the whip from around Akarsa’s body. The sting of the magic fades after a few seconds, and Akarsa straightens, staring down its nose at the man.

_Why was this one so difficult to control?_

“You will forget you ever saw us.”

“I will forget I ever saw you,” the hunter repeats blankly.

It’s almost a pity. The fire that danced so fiercely in the man’s golden eyes is gone, leaving them looking empty. Without that vigor, he looks just like any other human Akarsa’s seen. That spark gave him something . . . special.

“My lord, we must go,” Konika insists, already turning toward the edge of the roof.

Akarsa steps back, and the hunter allows it, standing still with his hands limp at his sides.

“What is your name?” Akarsa asks, curiosity overcoming its common sense, for a brief moment. But no human has ever been able to resist its voice. What makes this one so different?

“Bokuto Koutarou,” the man answers dully.

Akarsa tilts its head. _How appropriate._

“My lord!”

Akarsa turns away, and together the two demons leap off the building, taking off into the sky. Akarsa chances a glance back, as they fly, and catches sight of the hunter, Bokuto Koutarou, watching them.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Akaashi Keiji steps through the doors of Eastern Star Jewelers with Konoha Akinori at his side. The two men are dressed in dark suits, hair styled to perfection, glittering cufflinks affixed to their sleeves. Their outfits and demeanor exude importance and demand respect, and when the first employee spots them, his eyes widen.

“Hello!” he says, hurrying forward. His lips are curved in what appears to be a permanent smile, even as his bows repeatedly in a nervous gesture. “Welcome to Eastern Star Jewelers! How may I assist you?”

Akaashi surveys the establishment with a keen gaze. The front is rather innocuous. Three glass displays stand in a cube formation, allowing entrance into the center where one can observe everything. In each display, dozens of necklaces, bracelets, rings, and watches lie on velvet cloth. The stones set in each piece glitter attractively, but Akaashi knows how deadly each and every one can be.

Even more jewelry is displayed behind glass doors against the walls of the store, and at the very end of the room stands a young man with brown spiked hair and large brown eyes behind a counter which houses a cash register. His eyes gleam with interest, as he watches his coworker greet the two newcomers.

“Yes,” Akaashi says, turning to the young man in front of him. His nametag reads “Sarukui.” “I would like to speak to the owner of this establishment.”

“YO, SHIROFUKU-SAN! SOME RICH GUYS ARE HERE TO SEE YOU!” the small young man behind the counter shouts toward a door behind him.

Sarukui starts, turning slightly to give the young man a withering look. It’s not very effective, however, because it still looks like he’s smiling. “Komi, stop shouting in the store!”

“HOW ELSE IS SHE SUPPOSED TO HEAR ME?” Komi shouts back.

“That’s what our radios are for!”

“Oh, right.” Komi looks down at the radio at his belt as though it suddenly just appeared there. He grabs it, but before he can speak into it, the doors behind him open, and a woman with red-brown hair wearing a sharp business suit strides forward. Just behind her hurries a younger woman with ash-blonde hair and freckles, holding a clipboard and pen.

“You must be Akaashi Keiji and Konoha Akinori,” she greets, hand extended. “I am Shirofuku Yukie. The council told me you were coming.”

Akaashi takes her hand, shaking it firmly. Konoha does the same.

“The safety of the citizens of Tokyo are very important to us,” Akaashi says. “We have been looking to invest in a worthy business, and we believe Eastern Star Jewelers is the place. Our only condition is that we be allowed to be on the property whenever we please and that we be given full access to everything.”

Shirofuku gives him a quizzical half-smile. “I assure you, we manufacture all of the charms in-house. It’s all very secure.”

“That may be so, but one can never be too cautious. I’ve heard rumors that one of your coven members housed a demon for some time. How can I be certain you haven’t had dealings with demons yourself?”

Shirofuku stiffens, and her eyes blaze with indignation. “Sir, with all due respect, if you think for one second that any of my employees would consort with demons, you must be bat-shit crazy.”

Komi snorts a laugh from behind the register. Sarukui appears amused, as well. (Though that could be just his face.) Akaashi can’t help but smirk faintly, at these reactions.

_These idiotic humans. So full of pride, yet they can’t see what’s right in front of them._

“My apologies,” Akaashi says, bowing slightly. “I would still like full access for myself and my colleague.”

Shirofuku purses her lips. “We have nothing to hide.” She turns away, then, gesturing for the two to follow her.

She leads them through the door she just exited, past a security guard on duty, down some stairs into a basement. There’s an office off to the side, but in the center of the room is a pentagram drawn on the floor. Around it are candles, and around those are books stacked waist high. Against the walls are shelves of boxes, each one labeled with a different stone name. There are emeralds, diamonds, rubies, pearls, etc. Akaashi can’t help but wonder if the stones are real or manufactured as well.

“This is where we place the charms or curses on the stones,” Shirofuku explains. “We don’t sell curses out of the storefront, but every once in a while we’ll receive a commission. We review those on a case-by-case basis.”

“Who is your Architect?” Akaashi asks, turning to her.

Shirofuku pauses. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.”

Akaashi steps closer, looking down into her eyes. “Who is your Architect?” he asks again.

“Komi Haruki,” Shirofuku replies, her expression glazing over. “His talent is the ability to infuse objects with magic.”

Akaashi glances at Konoha, who nods. Stepping back, Akaashi gives Shirofuku a pleasant smile. “Thank you. This has been most helpful. We will return tomorrow.”

With a bow, he turns to leave. Once back in the store, Akaashi observes Komi. The energetic young man is assisting a customer that must have entered while they were downstairs. The human doesn’t appear very powerful, but if each piece contains his magic, then he is the one Akaashi must influence.

Konoha continues toward the door, but Akaashi lingers by the counter. Once Komi completes the transaction, he chirps a cheerful, “Have a nice day!” and turns to look up at Akaashi expectantly.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

Akaashi’s eyes fall to his neck. Around it hangs a chain that disappears into his shirt collar. He nods to it. “Is that one of the stores?” he asks.

“Oh, this? Sort of.” Komi pulls out the chain. At the end of it hangs a silver star, and in the center of the star glows a golden topaz. “Demons can’t touch me if I’m wearing this,” he explains with a grin. “If they try, my skin will burn them!”

Akaashi’s lips curl, but he forces it into a smile. “How ingenious. But does it protect against a demon’s magic?”

Komi tucks the chain back into his shirt. “Uh, I’m not sure! But the only demons we get around here are Class 5 imps, really, and they’ll try to eat you before cursing you!”

“Do all of the employees here have such a charm?”

“No, just me!” Komi grins.

“I see. And what makes you so special?”

Komi’s grin slips. He rubs the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle. “Ah, well . . . I just am, I guess!”

_They take extra precautions for their Architect. He must be powerful. That’s good. Malikra will be pleased._

Akaashi bows slightly. “I will let you return to your work. Thank you.”

“Sure thing! See you around!”

Akaashi waits until he’s stepped outside with Konoha to speak. “The child is guileless. He will not be difficult to manipulate.”

Konoha nods, as they make their way down the street toward their new living quarters. “The woman may prove to be a problem. I suggest we rid ourselves of her.”

Akaashi shakes his head. “She may prove to be useful, but I agree we must be cautious around her.”

The apartment building they selected is only a few meters from the store. Akaashi chose it because he can observe the storefront from their living room window. After they enter, he crosses to this window, looking down at the building from his vantage point. He can hear Konoha getting undressed behind him, his wings fluttering as he flings his shirt into a corner.

“Ah, that’s better,” he says. “I detest wearing human skin. It’s so . . . confining.”

Akaashi remains where he is, looking down at his hands. His fingers are long, slender, nails perfectly manicured. He chose this form because he knew attractive men have influence in this world.

“My lord, are you not going to undress?”

“As unpleasant as it may be, we must get used to these forms. We are human, now. We cannot afford to slip up.”

Konoha sighs. “You’re right, of course,” he says, coming to stand beside Akaashi. He shrugs his shoulders, bringing his wings, horns, and claws back into his skin. As his tattoos begin to fade, Akaashi reaches out to grab his wrist.

“No,” he says quietly. “Those will stay.”

Konoha smirks. “Did you not just tell me we must get used to these forms?”

Akaashi turns toward him. “Indeed.” He looks at the wrist in his hands, at the tattoos that run along his pale skin. “But I wish to see these for a few moments longer.” He runs his thumb along the mark closest to it. _Property of Akarsa_ , they say. A reminder of what Akaashi is. A general. A lord.

Just because they must now wear human skin, that does not mean they must become human. They are demons. They do not belong in this world full of filthy, idiotic mortals.

A pair of fiery golden eyes flashes in Akaashi’s memory. He pauses, pursing his lips.

No. That won’t do at all.

“My lord?” Konoha says quietly.

“Kneel,” Akaashi says firmly. “I wish to unwind from the stress of today, and I do not have my pleasure demons.”

Konoha raises an eyebrow. “Is that to become a part of my duties as well?”

Akaashi stares back at him. “Do you object?”

Konoha smirks, flipping his hand over to grab Akaashi’s. He brings it to his lips, planting a soft kiss against the back of it. “Not at all, my lord.”

As Konoha kneels and begins to unfasten Akaashi’s pants, the general looks outside the window once more at the rooftops he can see across the city.

_Bokuto Koutarou._

_May our paths never cross again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short! It's only setting the stage~
> 
> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


	2. Six Months Later

 

 

we meet again, at the turn of the tide.   
a great storm is coming, but the tides have turned.

\--j.r.r. tolkien, _the two towers_

 

 

“When you channel your magic, you must center your mind. Focus on the source; how it flows within you. Pull it forth, gathering it on the tips of your fingers. Then say the spell that releases the magic.”

Komi chuckles softly, his pulse thudding rapidly against the skin of his neck. From his close proximity, Akaashi can see the goosebumps appearing along it. He’s standing directly behind the young man, hands on top of his clothed arms, guiding his hands over the jewels that lie on the velvet cloth in front of them.

“Uh, Akaashi-san, it’s really cool of you to help me and all, but I’ve been doing this for a long time. I know how to channel my magic.”

Akaashi raises an eyebrow, squashing down his irritation at being dismissed. Instead, he pulls away, stepping around Komi to look into his face.

“You may be highly skilled, Haruki-kun, but this spell requires a magic more powerful than you’ve channeled before.”

Komi grins and gives him a thumbs-up. “Super powered magic. Got it. But it’s gotta be the same process I’ve always used, right? No fancy arm movements or standing on my head?”

Akaashi fights a smile. “No, it does not require standing on your head.”

“Then I’ve got this!” With a confident grin, Komi places his hands on the jewels, muttering the spell. Golden magic spirals down his arms from his chest, and his eyes glow gold. It’s a complicated spell; it’s taken Akaashi nearly six months to teach it to him. The syntax and diction must be precise. If he misses even a single word or pronounces something incorrectly, the spell will backfire, destroying the stones and leaving Komi with a nasty burn on his palms.

They’ve practiced almost daily, down in the basement of the Eastern Star Jewelers store. While Konoha takes care of business upstairs, Akaashi has been down here with his student, tutoring him on magic far more powerful than Komi’s instructors have taught him.

Now, he watches as the magic surrounds the stones, causing them to glow. After a few seconds, Komi relaxes, finishing the spell. He staggers slightly, as the magic disappears, leaving behind a ruby and a sapphire that appear perfectly normal. Curious, Komi picks up the ruby, holding it up to the light to peer at it.

“Wow, you can’t even tell it’s been upgraded!” he says with a grin. He sets the ruby back on the velvet carefully, before turning to look at Akaashi. “You said this’d make the wards more potent, right?”

Akaashi nods. “That’s right. They’ll be impervious to counter-spells from witches or demons.”

“So cool,” Komi says.

Akaashi suddenly feels the urge to pat his shoulder or ruffle his hair. An odd feeling indeed. He can’t grow complacent around these humans. They are like rats in his presence, not worthy of a second glance.

“So, um, Akaashi-san . . .” Komi’s fidgeting, tugging on the ends of his spiked-up hair. “Now that I’ve got this spell down, does that mean we won’t be meeting here like this anymore?”

Akaashi blinks slowly. “I’ve taught you everything I needed to. Further instruction is unnecessary.”

“Yeah, okay.” Komi appears almost . . . disappointed.

Before Akaashi can determine what that means, he hears Konoha’s voice calling for him. He nods to the small box of stones beside Komi.

“Do as many of those as you can. If your magic burns out before then, let me know.”

Komi nods, saluting. “Sir, yes, sir!”

Akaashi turns, taking the stairs swiftly to step out into the main room of the shop. Konoha is standing beside a harried looking Sarukui. It’s testament to how long Akaashi has been at Eastern Star Jewelers that he can tell Sarukui’s harried face from his normal one.

“What seems to be the trouble here?” he asks mildly.

They nod in unison to a woman in front of them. The human is older, perhaps in her sixties, and she’s clutching one of their necklaces in her hand.

“Your people told me this necklace would protect me from evil spirits,” the woman snaps. “But when I felt a demon’s presence, it only burned me! Look!” She pulls down the collar of her shirt, too far to be completely decent, to display a circular burn mark on her sternum.

Sarukui squeaks and hides his eyes.

Konoha smiles reassuringly. “I’m so sorry your charm malfunctioned,” he says, taking it from her. “Of course we will replace it.” He hands the necklace to Akaashi.

“We’ve just upgraded several stones,” Akaashi says, looking at the sapphire twinkling back at him. “I’ll make sure this one is replaced right away.”

The woman sniffs. “Well. Thank you. I was afraid I’d have to call corporate!”

“N-no need for that, ma’am,” Sarukui says, recovering finally. “While you wait, would you like to see our new ring collection?”

Akaashi turns from the group to head back into the basement, when a flash of black and gray moves in his peripheral. Glancing toward the door, he catches sight of a familiar figure, walking toward the chains on display. Akaashi clutches the necklace in his hand so tightly, that he can feel the silver bending in his palm.

Bokuto Koutarou stands pondering the chains in front of him, head tilted almost comically to the side. Akaashi knows it’s not unlikely that the man has frequented this store before, but he never even considered . . .

“My lord,” Konoha murmurs into his ear, startling him. “Would you like me to get rid of him?”

Akaashi turns toward his soldier. “No,” he says. “That would only look suspicious.” He picks up Konoha’s hand, dropping the necklace into it. “Fetch the sapphire Komi just completed and set it into the necklace for the woman. I’ll deal with this myself.”

Konoha dips his head, though he sends one last murderous glance toward Bokuto, before disappearing downstairs.

Akaashi straightens his shoulders. There is no reason to believe Bokuto will recognize him, especially not in this context. But just in case, Akaashi gathers his magic, ready to use it if he needs to.

“Can I help you find something, sir?” he asks politely, stepping up beside Bokuto.

The man jumps, almost knocking the display over. He grabs it quickly with both hands, steadying it on the counter, before turning to give Akaashi a sheepish smile. “Sorry! I, uh, yeah, I was looking for a chain with a discernment charm. This Class 3 demon is giving me some trouble, so I figured I’d better get me some tools that’ll help kick its ass. It’s pretty good at hiding, so that charm will help me sniff it out!”

There’s no recognition in his large golden eyes, and Akaashi finds himself relaxing. Reaching forward, he pulls down a silver chain with runes etched on each link.

“This one contains several charms,” Akaashi says. “Not only will it give you discernment, but it’ll also protect you, just in case the demon catches you off-guard.”

Bokuto grins crookedly. “But with the discernment charm, won’t that let me know when it’s gonna attack?”

Akaashi shakes his head. “Not necessarily. It will alert you to its presence, but not when it’ll attack. There are spells that will work better than this, you know.”

Bokuto nods. “Yeah, I know. But it’s hard to remember all of them! That’s why I get charmed stuff, so I can just focus on the fighting ones.”

Akaashi purses his lips. _How did an idiot like this resist my voice?_ “I see. You must be quite skilled at fighting, then.”

“I’m one of the best!” Bokuto beams, not catching on to Akaashi’s insinuation. “Bokuto Koutarou, top four Hunter in all of Tokyo under twenty-five!”

“Only the top four?” _He’s not even the most skilled, and he resisted my voice?_

“Well, yeah.” Bokuto turns back to the chains, running his finger along one of them. “I’d be higher up but I, uh, struggle with . . . stuff . . .” He trails off into a mumble, his entire demeanor shifting, as his shoulders slump, and his head hangs down.

Akaashi has no idea what just happened. He looks down at the chain in his hand and offers it to the hunter. “This one is probably your best choice. It will not hinder your strength and speed.” He observes the man’s biceps, which are bare as Bokuto still wears that hideous sleeveless jacket. “Though I doubt much could hinder those things . . .”

Bokuto follows his gaze, a grin brightening his features. “I _am_ pretty strong. I’ve destroyed, like, a thousand demons!”

Akaashi doubts that, but he wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the man does have a few hundred victories under his belt. He hands the chain over to Bokuto, careful to not let their hands touch. “Well, I thank you for your service.”

Surprisingly, Bokuto flushes. “You’re welcome!” he squeaks.

Akaashi gestured toward the cash register. “Sarukui can take care of your charges. Good luck with your hunting.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Bokuto grabs his elbow. “I wanna ask you something.”

Akaashi stiffens in his grasp. Turning back, he casually slips his arm away, folding his hands behind his back. “Yes?”

“You want to go out sometime?”

Akaashi blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You know! Like, dinner?” Bokuto bites his lip, but his eyes gleam hopefully. “You’re like, really smokin’ hot. And I don’t think I’ve seen you here before! You’re the new owner of this place, right? So I should take you out. Like a welcome to the neighborhood thing!”

Akaashi glances toward Konoha, who’s been watching everything since he returned with the new sapphire. On the one hand, he knows it’s foolish to engage in any sort of relationship with a human, platonic or romantic. Despite knowing Komi’s admiration of him extends deeper than that of a student, Akaashi has maintained a professional relationship between them. He is not here to make friends or form attachments. That would be detrimental to his mission.

But there’s something about Bokuto that bothers him. An itch that he can’t quite reach. How did this human resist his voice? How did their paths cross again so soon? Although Akaashi knows that many hunters frequent Eastern Star Jewelers, he never stopped to consider Bokuto might be one of them. Yet here he is, and he’s looking at Akaashi expectantly, with that fire in his eyes that both frightens and intrigues him.

“Very well,” he says. “You may take me to dinner. I have a few questions about this hunting business of yours. Perhaps you could enlighten me.”

Bokuto’s face lights up. “Yeah, totally! I can tell you all about it!”

_He is as impressionable as he is stupid._

“Pick me up here tomorrow night at six. I like meat.”

“I _love_ meat!” Bokuto grins. “Tomorrow at six. Got it!”

He starts backing away toward the door. “Just wait! It’s going to be the best date ever!”

“Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto pauses, tilting his head expectantly. “Yeah?”

“You have to pay for the chain.”

 

 

 

 

 

Konoha waits until that evening to voice his concerns. As they lie in bed, catching their breath from their previous activities, Konoha turns to him with a faint frown.

“My lord, is it wise to meet with the hunter? The human resisted your voice in the past. It could be a trap.”

Akaashi raises his eyebrows. “He didn’t recognize me, Konika. And he is hardly intelligent or crafty enough to create such an elaborate ruse. Your concern is unnecessary.”

Konoha props himself up on his elbow, looking down at Akaashi. “What is the purpose of this? Why did you agree to meet with him?”

“I do not need to explain myself to you,” Akaashi says, a hint of warning in his tone.

A warning that Konoha disregards. “I am your ally, Lord Akarsa. We’re partners in this mission. If you have a plan, I need to know it.”

Akaashi reaches over to press a claw into the markings on Konoha’s arm. Konoha’s features flinch only slightly, as the tip pierces his skin, black blood welling up.

“What does this say?”

Konoha sighs. “Property of Akarsa.”

“Yes. Property. My property. I may have brought you here as my partner, but your life still belongs to me. I am your lord, and you are my soldier. You will do as I say, and you will not question me.”

“I only speak out of concern for your life, my lord,” Konoha says, picking up Akaashi’s hand. He brings it to his lips, kissing the back of it. “I do not wish for harm to befall you.”

“Sentimentality makes you weak, Konika.”

Konoha tilts his head, smirking faintly. “This act of yours is pretty convincing, but you forget how long I’ve known you, Lord Akarsa.”

Akaashi purses his lips. “Shut your mouth, or I will shut it for you.”

Konoha shrugs, unaffected by the threat. “I’m simply saying. You’ve been known to grow attached to things in the past. Remember when Thirteen—”

Irritation rises swiftly, and Akaashi rolls over on top of Konoha, pinning him to the mattress with an arm across his throat.

“Do not speak of it,” he says in a low, quiet voice, heart pounding rapidly.

Konoha simply blinks up at him. “Don’t grow attached to the humans. That’s all I’m saying.”

Akaashi grits his teeth. “Of that, I have no intention.”

Konoha nods, relief flickering over his features. “Yes, my lord.”

Akaashi studies him a moment. He supposes he should be grateful that his lieutenant has such strong feelings about their mission and his place in it. Konoha has always been loyal and trustworthy, and his advice sound. Akaashi knows it’s foolish to meet with Bokuto, especially alone. But he has to know why his voice didn’t work. And perhaps he can gather more information about the coven in the process.

“I have a plan,” he tells Konoha. “Trust me.”

Konoha places his hands on Akaashi’s bare hips, stroking them up and down his sides. “I do,” he says.

Akaashi lifts off him, looking down at his form. “On your stomach,” he says. “I’m not finished for the night.”

Konoha smirks but turns over obediently. Akaashi moves behind him, and as he spreads Konoha’s legs and thrusts inside, he tries to forget their conversation and the dinner date looming in the future.

 

 

 

***

 

 

The ground is red and scorched by the sun. There’s not a cloud in the sky, there hardly ever is, and each tree they come across is black, gnarled, and bare, providing no shade. They camp in a shallow cave in a rock wall. It’s too hot for a fire, so they sit in shadows.

Hajime’s skin glistens in the light of the setting sun. It’s burnt red, blistered, and he wheezes, as he leans against the wall of the cave. He’s dehydrated, his lips cracked and bleeding. Kenma hovers beside him, knowing the nearest water source is at least a dozen kilometers away and directly inside Malikra’s territory.

He bites at his lip, glancing between his friend and the entrance to the cave. For the fifth time that day, he reaches for Tetsurou’s magic, only to feel nothing. He should be able to at least sense him in this dimension, even if he can’t see or speak to him. But it’s as though something is blocking the bridge between them, and he can’t seem to get around it.

With a frustrated grunt, he punches the dirt beneath him. He knows he can probably sneak into his Master’s territory to retrieve water, but that would mean leaving Hajime here alone, defenseless. But he can’t risk bringing the man with him, either, as Malikra’s soldiers would sooner eat him than question him.

“Hey,” Hajime says softly, reaching for his hand. “It’s okay.”

Kenma shoots him a glare. “No, it isn’t,” he hisses in his own language. “You’re dying.”

Hajime closes his eyes, swallowing hard past the dryness in his throat. “We’ll figure out something. Just let me rest for a bit. We’ll keep going once it’s dark.”

Kenma doesn’t like this plan, but he settles down anyway. Hajime leans against him, pressing his warm cheek against Kenma’s shoulder. Carefully, Kenma unfurls his wings, wrapping one around Hajime. Together, they wait for the sun to set.

The sound of growling wakes Kenma from his sleep. Immediately, he’s on guard, leaping to the front of the cave. Peering out into the darkness, he sees glowing red eyes appear, then another pair, and another pair. Hajime stirs behind him, but Kenma keeps his attention forward.

_Hell beasts. Did they track us here? Or did they just smell the human?_

“Kenma? What’s going on?”

“Shh.” Kenma gestures for the man to stay down. His tail flicks back and forth, and he makes himself grow larger, filling the space in the cave entrance with his body, wings outspread, as he extends his claws. His horns scrape against the rock above, as he stops growing, having reached his limit. The growling only gets louder, however, as the red eyes draw nearer. He can see the outline of the beasts, their long limbs and bulky bodies. Their teeth are sharp, sharper than Kenma’s, made to tear into flesh and bone.

“Are you strong enough to use your magic?” Kenma asks.

“Maybe for a little while,” Hajime says, coming to stand beside him. “How much magic do we need?”

The beast in front howls, and each one follows suit. The sound echoes into the cavern, shaking the walls. A hunting call.

Kenma grimaces. “All of it.”

The beasts attack.

 

 

 

 

 

Kenma awakes with a small cry, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. He reaches for Tetsurou beside him, only to be met with empty sheets.

_Oh, right. He’s on a mission with Tooru._

With a soft whimper, he buries his face in Tetsurou’s pillow, breathing in his scent, clinging to it. He hates when Tetsurou has to leave. He knows his work is important, and he knows he can’t join him or else risk being discovered again. But that doesn’t make his time alone any easier.

_I’m not alone, though._

Kenma glances toward the wall that separates his and Tetsurou’s room from Hajime and Tooru’s. Slipping off the bed, Kenma makes his way out into the hall. Once Tooru and Tetsurou established themselves as talented and powerful Demon Hunters, people began hiring them left and right. They bought this apartment together with money they earned banishing demons, and the four of them have been living here for the past six months.

Despite Tetsurou’s frequent scolding to always knock before opening a closed door, Kenma slips inside Hajime’s bedroom without knocking. He’s not exactly surprised to find Hajime awake, sitting up against the headboard of the large bed. He’s looking at something on his phone, the light from it illuminating his tanned face. The scars on his forehead are still visible, faintly. The characters that read “traitor” in Japanese.

Kenma still fumes silently whenever he sees them. He wishes Tetsurou would let them destroy the House of the White Rose. But the man says they’re not strong enough, yet.

Hajime glances up, as Kenma hops onto the bed and crawls over to him. He gives Kenma a faint smile.

“You’re up early.”

Kenma shakes his head. “Bad dream.”

Hajime sets aside his phone, and Kenma makes himself smaller, about the size of a Chihuahua, in order to climb into Hajime’s lap and snuggle into his chest. Hajime strokes Kenma’s hair between his horns, wrapping his other hand around his back to press gently between his wings. Kenma coils his tail around Hajime’s arm, fitting almost perfectly against the red scar already there.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hajime asks softly in Kenma’s demon language.

“It was that time the hell beasts attacked us,” Kenma admits, staring at the folds of Hajime’s sleep shirt. He drags a black claw against the material absently.

“Ah. You know, you saved my life that day,” Hajime reminds him.

Kenma wrinkles his nose. “I shouldn’t have made you use your magic in the first place.”

“I’m still alive. It’s all in the past now,” Hajime murmurs, threading his fingers through Kenma’s hair.

Kenma glances over at the phone Hajime set down. Tooru’s face grins back at him in a photo Hajime must have taken before he and Tetsurou left on this last mission. It’s been three days, not nearly the longest they’ve ever been gone, but it’s still difficult.

“I don’t want them to leave us behind anymore,” Kenma declares. He picks up the phone, it feeling large and heavy in his small hands. He glares at the photo of Tooru. If it wasn’t for his and Hajime’s stunt at The House of the White Rose, stealing that portal pendant, Kenma wouldn’t have been discovered. He and Hajime wouldn’t have had to go back to Hinokoku, either.

“I feel the same,” Hajime admits, taking the phone back from him. “But they do it to keep us safe.”

Kenma huffs. “We’re both strong enough to take care of ourselves.”

Hajime grins. “You are, at least.”

Kenma turns his glare onto his friend. Before he can scold him, however, he hears the lock on the front door turning. He sits up straight, his tail uncurling from around Hajime’s arm to flick back and forth in the air. Hajime follows his gaze.

“Is it them?” he asks with a faint grin.

Kenma scrambles off his lap, leaping into the air to fly out of the room. Tooru and Tetsurou are barely through the door when Kenma tackles Tetsurou, knocking him back against the wall, as he wraps his arms and legs around him.

“Whoa! Hey,” Tetsurou exclaims, laughing softly. “It’s only been three days.”

“Long three days,” Kenma insists, peppering Tetsurou’s neck with small kisses. He closes his eyes, breathing in his scent. He’s warm and solid, and the horror of his nightmare fades, as Tetsurou wraps his arms around him and holds him close.

“Iwa-chan, how come you don’t greet me like that whenever I get home?” Tooru pouts at his boyfriend, as Hajime makes his way out of the bedroom at a normal pace.

“You want me to tackle you into a wall?”

“Well, some enthusiasm wouldn’t hurt!”

Kenma pulls away from Tetsurou to glance over his shoulder, as Hajime draws Tooru in close for a deep kiss. Tooru melts against him, wrapping his arms around Hajime’s neck.

“I missed you,” Hajime murmurs softly so only Tooru can hear.

Kenma’s advanced hearing picks up on it, though, and he turns back to Tetsurou, who’s watching him with a tender expression.

“I guess it does feel like a long time,” he concedes, leaning forward to press his nose against Kenma’s gently. “We should get you a cell phone. That way I can call you while we’re gone.”

“I go with you,” Kenma suggests pointedly, running his claws through Tetsurou’s hair slowly.

Tetsurou bites his lip. “Kenma,” he says with a sigh.

It’s a conversation they’ve had before, many times. But Kenma can’t let it go. He wants to be with Tetsurou, out there. He wants to fight by his side. He knows he doesn’t have much training. His position in Hinokoku wasn’t as a soldier, even though he knows how to protect himself. He also knows how dangerous it could be for Tetsurou to be seen working with a demon.

But Kenma’s gotten better at his disguise. He can almost pass completely, his markings showing only faintly when he concentrates. But he knows Tetsurou is paranoid about losing him again, and Kenma can’t truly blame him.

Still . . .

“You train me. Make me better fighter. Then I go,” Kenma offers as a compromise. “Or Hajime train me. Either way, I train. I get better. I go with you.”

Tetsurou hesitates before setting Kenma down on the floor. Kenma shifts into his normal height, and Tetsurou cups his face briefly with his hand.

“I’ll think about it,” he says, brushing his thumb across Kenma’s cheekbone. He stifles a yawn, then. “Right now, though, I need sleep.”

He shrugs off his pack, dropping it by his shoes in the hallway. Hajime and Tooru have already disappeared into their room, so Kenma follows Tetsurou into theirs, climbing up on the bed and kneeling, as Tetsurou starts peeling off his clothes.

Kenma frowns, as he notices a large bruise on Tetsurou’s back. It’s already turning yellow and green, and he hops off the bed, touching it lightly. Tetsurou flinches, turning slightly to look down at him.

“I’m fine,” he assures him quickly. “It’s already fading.”

Kenma sighs. If _he’d_ been there, that wouldn’t have happened. At least, that’s what Kenma tells himself. Leaning forward, he presses his lips gently against the bruise. Tetsurou reaches around to scratch his head lightly between his horns.

“I’m okay, Kenma. I promise.”

He finishes changing into some loose pajama pants and t-shirt, pushing back the covers of the bed to lie down, stifling another yawn. Kenma hops up to lie down beside him, pulling his wings into his skin. He wraps his arm around Tetsurou’s waist, curling his tail lightly around Tetsurou’s thigh. Tetsurou grins sleepily.

“You’re so clingy after a mission.” He leans forward to kiss Kenma’s forehead, gently. “I promise I won’t disappear.”

Kenma knows he can’t really promise that, though. Any mission can go awry. Still, he doesn’t want to argue about it, so he simply rests his forehead against Tetsurou’s chest and closes his eyes to sleep.

 

 

 

 

It’s noon when a loud, exuberant knock sounds at the door. Kenma tries to ignore it, burrowing his head deeper into Tetsurou’s armpit, despite the faint stench. The knocking only continues, though, until finally Tetsurou raises his head with a growl.

“Is someone going to get that?!”

The question is only met with more knocking.

“Unbelievable.” With a grunt, Tetsurou rolls out of bed. Kenma shrinks in order to perch on his shoulder, tail wrapped around his neck, claws in his hair. He yawns, resting his head against the top of Tetsurou’s, as the human makes his way out of the room and towards the front door.

“Get down,” he mutters at Kenma, brushing his knuckles against Kenma’s chest with a soft nudge.

Kenma huffs in annoyance, but lowers himself off Tetsurou’s shoulder to cling to the back of his shirt instead, hiding behind him. Tetsurou opens the door, then.

“HEY HEY HEY! Did you miss me?!”

The voice is loud, exuberant. Unfamiliar. Kenma frowns.

“Bokuto?” Tetsurou sounds surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m in town waiting for my next mission. I heard you got a place and thought I’d say hey!”

“Oh. Sweet.” Tetsurou reaches behind his back, grabbing hold of Kenma somewhat protectively. “Yeah, it’s good to see you.”

His tone is less than enthusiastic, and Bokuto seems to pick up on that.

“Oh. Shit. I fucked up, didn’t I? I just thought I’d surprise you . . .”

“No, no, it’s fine. You just caught me off guard.”

Bokuto snorts. “Uh, yeah, that’s kinda what a surprise does, dude.”

“Right.” Tetsurou laughs awkwardly.

Kenma rolls his eyes. This is ridiculous. He knows Tetsurou is trying to protect him, but if this Bokuto person is a friend, then surely he’ll keep their secret. Despite knowing it’s a bad idea, that this could have real, serious consequences, Kenma releases Tetsurou’s shirt and hops to the floor. He grows to his usual height and steps out from behind Tetsurou to face the newcomer.

“Kenma!” Tetsurou hisses, even as Bokuto’s eyes grow wide.

“Dude! That’s a demon!”

Tetsurou grabs Bokuto’s vest, yanking him inside the house.

“Shut up!” he snaps. “You’re too loud.”

Bokuto stares wide-eyed at Kenma, looking back and forth between him and Tetsurou until Kenma wonders if his head will fall off.

“I heard the rumors that you fucked a demon but . . . dude, I didn’t think it was real! I was, like, my man Kuroo would never do that! He’s, like, the best hunter I know, after me!”

Tetsurou sighs, releasing him. “It’s not . . . Kenma’s different. He wants to be human. He practically is, now.”

Bokuto leans forward, poking his finger at Kenma’s mouth. Kenma snaps at it, and Bokuto rears back with a yelp.

“Maybe don’t do that, though,” Tetsurou says with a smirk.

Bokuto narrows his eyes, studying Kenma while keeping his distance. “Those markings . . . what Hell dimension is he from?”

“Hinokoku. Why?”

Bokuto leans back, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, like, a few months ago I was on a mission to destroy these two demons from Hinokoku but . . . I don’t know, man. They escaped or something.”

“Or something?” Tetsurou raises his eyebrows.

Bokuto shrugs, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t really remember what happened. I was fighting them one moment, and the next they were just . . . gone.” He sighs deeply. “It was an off day.”

He slinks over to the couch, throwing himself onto it in a slump. Kenma watches him, frowning. Demons from Hinokoku? Here? Why can’t he sense them?

He hops up onto the back of the couch, perching there, as he looks down at Bokuto, tilting his head. Bokuto doesn’t notice him at first. When he does, he jumps to the side, nearly falling off the couch.

“Who?” Kenma asks. “Who from Hinokoku?”

Bokuto’s jaw drops. “It speaks Japanese?!”

“Kenma goes by he, actually,” Tetsurou says, stepping up to the couch. “And yeah, he’s been learning.”

Kenma hops off the back of the couch to kneel on it in front of Bokuto. He leans forward over his knees, staring at the man intently.

“Who from Hinokoku?”

Bokuto throws up his hands. “I don’t know, dude! It’s not like we exchanged phone numbers or something! They looked, uh, kinda like you, I guess? They didn’t have tails, though. And only one of them had tattoos like that.” He gestures to the markings on Kenma’s arm.

“Not tattoos,” Kenma mutters, sitting back on his heels. “Brand.” He scowls, as he covers Malikra’s name with one hand. “Property.”

Tetsurou strokes the back of his head gently. “Not anymore,” he reminds him softly.

Kenma looks up. “We go. Find Hinokoku demons.”

Tetsurou frowns, shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”

Kenma huffs. He moves to stand, facing Tetsurou from the other side of the couch. “Hinokoku demons bad. They go back to Hell. We send them.” He gestures between the two of them, before glancing sidelong at Bokuto. “He help, maybe.”

“Kenma, I’m not taking you on a mission. Especially one not sanctioned by the Council. I can look into it, but I have to be approved, and—”

Kenma sticks out his tongue, blowing hard to make a loud, exasperated noise, cutting him off. Bokuto stares in horror at his long, black forked tongue. Tetsurou only rolls his eyes.

“Very mature.”

“I help. I know Hinokoku demons. I track.”

“I’m not putting you at risk. You’re not trained—”

“Whoa, whoa, what’s going on here?” Tooru steps out from his bedroom, frowning slightly at those present. His hair is mussed from sleep, and he’s still wearing his alien pajamas. Behind him, Hajime appears, yawning.

“ _Now_ you decide to wake up!” Tetsurou throws his arms in the air.

“Hello, Koutarou. It’s been a while,” Tooru says, ignoring Tetsurou. “I see you’ve met our little demonling.”

“Uh, yeah,” Bokuto says, glancing at Kenma. “You sure it’s safe?”

Tooru waves him off. “Kenma’s harmless. Most of the time, anyway.” He looks back at Tetsurou. “What’s this about an unsanctioned mission?”

Tetsurou sighs, crossing his arms. “Bokuto says there are a couple Hinokoku demons running loose. Kenma wants to help track them down.”

“So let him.”

Tetsurou frowns. “I’m not risking—”

“It’s just tracking them, right? He won’t be involved in any fighting. We’ll track them down, see what’s going on, then report back to the Council.”

Kenma decides maybe Tooru isn’t so annoying, after all.

Tetsurou still doesn’t look convinced. “I don’t like it.”

“You can’t keep him locked up here forever,” Tooru says, walking past them all to step into the kitchen. “Breakfast, anyone?”

Hajime moves to follow, but stops beside Tetsurou, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. “I know you want to protect Kenma, but the kid isn’t entirely helpless. He might not be a hunter, but he can hold his own in a fight. He wants to be your partner, Kuroo. Maybe it’s time to let him.”

“I have no idea what’s going on anymore,” Bokuto announces. He jumps to his feet. “Breakfast sounds good, though!” He hesitates, looking at Kenma warily. “Uh, Kenma doesn’t eat human flesh, does he?”

Kenma grins slowly, displaying all his sharp teeth. Bokuto pales, his hand automatically moving toward the whip coiled at his side.

“I only eat Tetsurou,” Kenma says, fighting a smirk.

“Kenma!” Tetsurou yelps, his face glowing crimson.

Bokuto blinks, before he throws back his head and laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


	3. The Weak and the Strong

Akaashi waits outside the store, dressed sharply in a three-piece suit. His hair trimmed, hands manicured, features impassive. Konoha scoffed at him making so much of an effort for a lowly human, but Akaashi believes in making good impressions. Besides, Bokuto will be easier to manipulate if he looks his best.

“Hey, hey, hey, Akaashi!”

Akaashi turns slightly to observe the man making his way toward him. Akaashi can’t help but raise an eyebrow at Bokuto’s appearance. He’s wearing jeans and a plain white button-up shirt, nothing fancy, but his hair is slicked back, and he’s wearing loafers, not sneakers or boots. For him, Akaashi guesses, this is dressing up.

In his hand, he holds a small bouquet of wild flowers.

Bokuto stops short when he gets within an arm’s reach of Akaashi. His eyes widen, as he looks Akaashi over.

“Wow,” he says reverently. “You look awesome.”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says politely. “You . . .” he surveys the man once more, “look decent.”

Bokuto grins. “I clean up good, right? These are for you.” He thrusts out the flowers.

“Naturally,” Akaashi says, taking them and not entirely sure what he’s supposed to do with them. They’re going to dinner, and they’re sure to get in the way.

“I saw them on my way over here and picked them,” Bokuto says with a grin, watching Akaashi’s face as though looking for approval.

Akaashi simply raises his eyebrow once more. “You stole these from someone’s garden?”

“No!” Bokuto exclaims, shaking his head. He stops suddenly and squints. “Well . . . maybe? They were near the street. I didn’t think they belonged to anyone . . .” He slumps suddenly, seeming to wilt before Akaashi’s eyes. “I fucked up, didn’t I? Dammit, Koutarou! Use your head!” He slams his palms against his cheeks.

Akaashi blinks at the display. “No need for that,” he says calmly. “They’re very nice. Thank you.”

Bokuto narrows his eyes. “You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

Bokuto lowers his hands and straightens. “Usually people get mad when I fuck up.”

“And you take it that much to heart?” Akaashi asks, wondering just how fragile this man is.

Bokuto shrugs and scratches the back of his neck with one hand. “Well, nobody likes getting yelled at, right?”

“I suppose not. But you shouldn’t always take it so personally. Besides, I didn’t yell at you, so there’s nothing to be worried about.” Akaashi glances at his watch. “Our reservation is at seven. We should get going.”

Bokuto perks up. “Oh! You made reservations? I was just going to take you to my favorite izakaya.”

“No need. I reserved us a table at Fujii’s.”

Bokuto’s eyes widen so far his eyes seem to bulge slightly. “What?!” he yelps. “I can’t afford that!”

Akaashi begins walking. “That’s why I am paying.”

 

 

 

 

 

The restaurant is modeled after the Western style, with dark wooden tables covered with white linen and dark wooden chairs with deep red cushions on a dark wooden floor. Each wall is a floor to ceiling window, and the staff members all wear tuxedos. Bokuto shifts uncomfortably in his seat, looking around at the other patrons in their fancy clothes, and the chandeliers that hang from the ceiling.

"Is there a problem?" Akaashi asks mildly, pursuing the menu in front of him.

"Uh, well, I'm not exactly dressed for a place like this," Bokuto admits. "You sure this is okay?"

"It's fine," Akaashi assures him, setting down his menu. "If you don't mind, though, I'd like to begin."

"Begin what?" Bokuto asks, looking over the different utensils in front of him with some confusion.

"I mentioned that I had questions about your profession."

"Oh, right." Bokuto sits back in his seat, grinning across the table at Akaashi. "Shoot."

"To what coven do you belong?"

"House of the Eastern Star," Bokuto replies promptly. "Best of the best!"

Akaashi purses his lips. "Is that so? The House of the White Rose sends its members to defeat demons in Hinokoku as their final test. The House of the Eastern Star only performs simulations. Don't you feel one has an advantage over the other?"

Bokuto shakes his head. "No way! The White Rose sends _kids_ into _demon_ realms. Half of them come back broken in some way!"

"But the strong survive and are stronger for it. Isn't that how natural selection works?"

Bokuto frowns. "It's cruel and everyone with a brain knows it. I've heard the Eastern Star is gonna petition the other covens to try and have The White Rose disbanded. I say good riddance to them!"

"You have strong feelings on the matter."

"Any good person would!"

Akaashi considers this, as their waiter approaches to take their orders. Once he's gone, Akaashi folds his hands on top of the table, looking across at Bokuto once more.

"You've never been to Hinokoku, then," he surmises.

Bokuto shakes his head. "Nah, but I've fought plenty of demons. At least two hundred! I'm not too great at spells, but I'm quick and super strong. Not many stand a chance against me."

"Do you hunt alone?"

Bokuto nods. "Most Hunters have partners . . . Ushijima from Shiratorizawa's got, like, seven of them. But . . . I don't know. I've never really found anyone willing to work with me. I don't really get it. I'm a great guy! But everyone says I'm difficult to work with. Which . . . is fair, I guess. I mean, I do have my . . . moods and stuff . . ." He trails off, fidgeting with the silverware.

"Your moods affect your hunting?"

Bokuto screws up his face like he's smelled something unpleasant. "Well . . . yeah. I mean, I try not to let them but . . . when I get dejected I tend to . . . shut down and get pouty and stuff. It used to be really bad . . . I take meds and stuff for it now, some potions help too, so it's pretty much under control now! But . . . I guess people don't want to work with someone who's broken like me."

He slumps in his chair, some of the vitality and exuberance slipping out of his demeanor. For some reason, this irritates Akaashi.

"You're not broken," he says flatly. "Like I said before, you shouldn't take things so personally. If people don't want to work with you, it's probably not just because of your inconvenient mood swings. It might not even be about you at all."

Bokuto squints at him. "Aren't you supposed to be nice to your date when you go out?"

Akaashi coughs at the unexpected insinuation. "This isn't a date," he says, fiddling with his fingers.

"Uh, I'm pretty sure it _is_ ," Bokuto insists. "I asked you out, and you said yes. You took me to this fancy place . . . this is definitely a date."

Akaashi sighs, wondering if just agreeing would be easier. "If you insist."

"As my date you should be nicer to me," Bokuto declares.

"I will be myself and nothing more or less."

"Are you saying you're not capable of being nice?"

"I'm saying I'm not going to lie just to spare your feelings," Akaashi says, then pauses, realizing that that in itself might be a lie. He decides, then, that keeping his true identity a secret is for his own protection, not to spare Bokuto any hurt feelings.

"Okay, but you gotta tell the truth when I do or say something awesome too, deal?" Bokuto grins at him, a ridiculous grin that has absolutely no effect on Akaashi whatsoever.

No effect at all.

"We'll see."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The night continues fairly pleasantly. Akaashi spends most of it asking careful, targeted questions that send Bokuto on different monologues talking about himself. He does his best to reveal very little about his own story in return, which proves to be rather easy. Bokuto loves telling stories about his time at the Eastern Star academy in downtown Tokyo, though he admits he initially applied to Shiratorizawa. They rejected him, but he didn't let that get him down and worked hard at the classes he was able to take at the general academy. Akaashi learns that although he's fought many demons, most if not all were Class 5 and below. Easy pickings, by Akaashi's standards. He wonders how Bokuto would fair against a Class 1 demon like Malikra.

Then again, he faired pretty well against Akaashi and Konoha, and they're both Class 3. He even resisted Akaashi's Voice, which Akaashi still isn't sure how. It's not exactly a question he can ask without raising suspicion, though, so he keeps it to himself.

Bokuto walks him back to the store, since Akaashi refuses to allow the man to see where he lives. Before they part ways, Bokuto takes Akaashi's elbow, turning him toward him.

"Don't think I didn't notice that you let me talk all night and never said anything about yourself. You're not getting away with that next time," he says, his golden eyes flashing in a way that seems almost . . . predatory.

Akaashi definitely doesn't shiver. "I'm not prone to divulging my life story," he says, carefully pulling his arm out of Bokuto's grasp.

"I want to get to know you."

"I'm not in the habit of being known, either."

Bokuto huffs, frustration evident on his features. "Aggaashiii!" he exclaims, butchering Akaashi's chosen name with a slight whine. "You gotta know I'm interested in you! This can't go anywhere if I don't know anything about you!" He gestures between them.

"Perhaps I do not wish for it to go anywhere," Akaashi says mildly, turning away.

"I'm not going to give up," Bokuto proclaims. "Even if it doesn't go anywhere in _that_ way, I still want to get to know you. We could be friends!"

"I have no need for friends."

"Everyone needs friends."

Akaashi glances sidelong at the earnest young man beside him. Channeling his power into his voice, he speaks calmly and decisively.

"You will abandon this foolish desire for friendship and go back to the life you had before you saw me."

For a moment, Bokuto's eyes glaze over. But then he shakes his head, and the brightness returns, the fire and determination in them stronger than before.

"No, no I won't," he says. He takes a step back, pointing at Akaashi's face. "Just you wait, Akaashi. I'm going to be the best and greatest friend you've ever had."

With that, he turns and leaves Akaashi standing alone on the sidewalk in front of Eastern Star Jewelers, holding a bouquet of wilting wildflowers in one hand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Soooo, how did it go?"

Akaashi pauses, his hand still on the display in front of him. Turning his head, he observes the three young men in front of him. Sarukui, Washio, and Onaga Wataru, the jewel procurer, look back at him, each fighting a smile. Glancing over their shoulders, Akaashi sees Konoha standing by the register, pretending to not be listening.

He turns his attention to the humans before him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Come on, man, your date!” Sarukui exclaims. “How did it go?!”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” Akaashi turns back to the display, arranging the jewelry that contains the new gems enchanted by Komi. He’s made good progress. The new gems have replaced nearly a quarter of the store’s entire stock. If he continues this steady pace, they’ll have switched the entire inventory over to the new gems by winter.

Malikra will be pleased.

“Aww, Akaashi-san,” Sarukui whines. “None of us have been on a date in forever. Let us live vicariously through you!”

“Did you have a good time?” Washio asks.

“Where did you go?” Onaga asks.

“Was there kissing?” Sarukui asks, grinning.

“No, there was no kissing,” Akaashi says flatly, cringing inwardly at the thought of putting his lips against a human’s.

He does _not_ recall the shape of Bokuto’s lips, as he steps away from the display and moves behind the counter to check the inventory of the pieces in the drawers. And he definitely doesn’t wonder what it would be like to taste them.

He’s never seen nor met a human such as Bokuto, but that doesn’t mean the man is special or that Akaashi can afford to let his guard down. He has a mission to complete. Getting involved with a human is inadvisable. Konoha’s warnings are sound and valid, and Akaashi knows his partner is right to question him.

But he can’t help his curiosity. And perhaps learning more about the humans and their illustrious Hunters will provide information that will be useful to Malikra. Perhaps.

“Are you going to see him again?” Sarukui asks, leaning over the counter to look down at him.

“I don’t know,” Akaashi admits truthfully. He glances up at the three with a faint frown. “Is there not work you should be doing?”

They disperse reluctantly, and Akaashi turns his attention to the drawers before him. There are a couple sold-out pieces that he makes note of, before standing and making his way toward the back of the store. Konoha tries to catch his attention, but Akaashi slips behind the door without acknowledging him.

Komi is in the basement, kneeling in the center of the pentagon, chanting spells over jewels laid out on fabric in front of him on the floor. There’s a sheen of sweat on his brow, and his lips are chapped. Akaashi raises an eyebrow, as he passes him to enter the office. Shirofuku has the day off. Not by choice, of course, but Akaashi has been slowly “convincing” her to work less and less hours at the shop. She seems like a smart human, and the last thing Akaashi needs is for her to grow suspicious of him.

He steps over to the small fridge at the back of the office, opening it and pulling out a bottle of water. He walks back to where Komi is kneeling, nudging his shoulder with the bottle. Komi starts in surprise, slowly lowering his hands, as he looks up at Akaashi. He appears dazed, and Akaashi nudges his shoulder again.

“Drink,” he instructs.

Komi blinks, taking the bottle with a nod of thanks. Opening it, he takes a long drink. As he does, Akaashi sits cross-legged beside him, picking up a gem to inspect it. Komi lowers the bottle and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Got done with those already,” he says, nodding to a box to his right that’s already half-full of gems.

Akaashi raises both eyebrows. “How long have you been down here?” he asks.

“Since open,” Komi says with a crooked grin.

Akaashi frowns. “That was five hours ago.”

Komi shrugs. “We have a lot of inventory,” he says. He glances sidelong at Akaashi. “I know you want to get it done as soon as possible, so I’ve been working hard . . .”

He seems to be waiting for some sort of praise or word of approval, but all Akaashi feels is annoyance.

“You’re no good to me if you burn yourself out,” he says, setting the gem back on the cloth beside the others. “I no longer want you working more than three hours at a time. You are to take breaks and stay hydrated.”

When he looks back at Komi, he sees the young man’s face has grown red.

“Will that be a problem?” Akaashi asks sharply.

“What? No, no,” Komi says, shaking his head. His grin widens. “You must care about me a lot, huh?”

Akaashi purses his lips. “If you burn yourself out, your production will slow, and it will set us back weeks. I’m looking out for my investment.”

“Yeah, but you care about me too, right? I mean, I’m like your-your protégé!” Komi looks pleased at this prospect.

Akaashi glances toward the door. He remembers Konoha’s warning once more. He remembers Thirteen . . .

He closes his eyes. If he hurts Komi by telling the boy he means nothing to Akaashi, his magic may be affected. These humans with their magic tied to their souls . . . it can make them unpredictable. But he doesn’t want Komi to get the wrong idea about this arrangement, either.

“I suppose you are,” Akaashi says finally, as vaguely as possible.

Komi beams. Akaashi looks away, cursing himself inwardly. He wonders how Konoha stays so cold, so unaffected. These stupid humans, so weak and soft . . . how can Akaashi feel anything but contempt for them?

“If I’m taking a break do you, um, want to go get something to eat?” Komi asks, breaking through Akaashi’s thoughts.

Akaashi’s head snaps up. “Excuse me?”

Komi stares back at him, not blinking. Even as Akaashi narrows his eyes, Komi maintains eye contact.

_What is it with these persistent humans?_

Is he cursed?

“That would be inappropriate. I am your employer.”

Komi laughs. “It’s just lunch!”

“Is it?”

Komi blushes again, but he grins fiendishly. “Unless you want it to be more . . .” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Akaashi blinks. “You presume too much.”

“I like you,” Komi says boldly. “You’re super awesome and powerful and hot—”

“I am seeing someone.”

Akaashi isn’t entirely sure why he said it, but he immediately wishes he could take it back. Komi’s eyes widen.

“No way, really? That Hunter guy?”

“Bokuto Koutarou . . .” Akaashi grits his teeth, realizing what he’s done. Now he’ll have to spend more time with Bokuto, to avoid suspicion.

“He’s pretty cool,” Komi admits. “I guess if you can’t date me, you’re dating one of the best out there.”

“Yes, well . . . I will leave you to your lunch.” Akaashi stands abruptly and leaves the room.

Konoha grabs his arm the second he exits the basement. Akaashi suppresses a sigh.

“The humans are speculating about your date. They think you intend to continue seeing this Hunter. Is that true?”

Akaashi pulls his arm away. “Are you going to question every decision I make?”

“If I think it’s going to hinder the mission? Yes.” Konoha’s eyes roam over Akaashi’s face. “What happened to you? You used to be stronger than this.”

Akaashi frowns, irritation causing a vein to throb in his forehead. “Do not question my strength.”

Konoha steps closer, grabbing Akaashi’s shoulder, as he leans forward to whisper in his ear. “Remember who we work for. Remember what he does to those that fail him.”

Akaashi closes his eyes. “I remember.”

Konoha squeezes Akaashi’s shoulder tightly. “I do not want such a fate, but more importantly, I do not want you to suffer it, as well.”

“I’m well aware of my duties here,” Akaashi states, brushing Konoha’s hand off his shoulder. “But what I choose to do with my free time is no one’s business but my own. If I wish to enjoy the company of humans, I will enjoy it. That does not mean I am wavering in my mission.”

Konoha studies him for a long moment before taking a step back. “If you say so.”

“Do you trust me?” Akaashi asks, meeting Konoha’s gaze.

Konoha blinks. “With my life.”

“Then stop questioning me.”

Akaashi steps past him, walking by the three humans gossiping among themselves, straight out the door of the shop.

He needs time to reevaluate some things.

 

 

***

 

 

“I don’t like this,” Tetsurou announces for what feels like the hundredth time.

Kenma rolls his eyes behind his sunglasses, continuing to walk forward, as he does his best to push back the irritation that’s itching his brain. Despite the warmth of the late summer sun, he’s completely covered in jeans and a long-sleeved hoodie, with the hood up. Despite the fact that he’s gotten quite good at making his marks disappear. They’re barely noticeable now, thanks to practice. But Tetsurou doesn’t want to take any risks.

“Come on, dude, it’ll be fine,” Bokuto Koutarou says from his place on the other side of Kenma. “Nobody’s giving him a second glance. Though he looks kinda funny in the hoodie. It’s hot out here!”

“They’d look more if they saw his markings,” Tetsurou insists. “Besides, isn’t this a super inefficient way to look for these demons? What, are we just going to walk Kenma through all of Tokyo, ward by ward? These chucklefucks could be anywhere.”

“You got a better idea?” Bokuto asks.

“No,” Tetsurou huffs. “If we had something of theirs we could track them with magic and pinpoint their positions easier . . .”

“It’s not exactly like they leave weapons or pieces of clothing behind when they fight!”

“I know, I know. I’m just thinking out loud.”

Kenma turns on the two with a glare, taking off his sunglasses so that they can see it. “You. Be quiet. Concentrating.”

Tetsurou holds up his hands. “Sorry, but . . . are you even sensing anything?”

“When I sense, you will know,” Kenma says flatly. He turns back around, slipping on his sunglasses and starting forward once more.

He knows Tetsurou is right, however. This is a very inefficient way to search for someone. But it’s all they have right now.

Kenma wants to be useful.

It took a lot of arguing last night with Tetsurou to even let him do this much. He knows the human is afraid of him being recognized as a demon, of him being taken away again. Kenma doesn’t want that to happen, either.

But he can’t keep sitting alone at home while Tetsurou hunts. He wants to be Tetsurou’s partner, through and through. His equal. He wants to prove that he _can_ be. He’s no longer property. He doesn’t have to be docile and compliant to his Master’s every whim anymore. He can be his own person.

Kenma’s struggled quite a lot with this new concept. After Tetsurou insisted that Kenma doesn’t belong to him, he had to reevaluate who he is. Who he wants to be.

Except the problem is, now that he knows what he wants to be, Tetsurou doesn’t like it. He’s being over-protective. It’s out of love, Kenma understands that now, but it’s still frustrating.

He’s determined to find these demons from his Hell dimension and banish them back to Hinokoku. If he can do that, maybe Tetsurou will see what he’s capable of, will see that he doesn’t need to worry so much about him. Kenma can do this.

“Hey, hey,” Tetsurou says, hurrying forward to grab his arm. “Are you still mad at me?” he asks, turning Kenma toward him to look down into his face.

“No,” Kenma admits, though he can’t hold Tetsurou’s gaze. He looks to the side, frowning at Bokuto and wishing he’d mind his own business instead of watching them avidly like they’re a TV show.

“But you’re mad.”

“Annoyed. You annoying.”

“I’m sorry,” Tetsurou says helplessly. “I just think this is a bad idea. You wandering around out in the open with no idea where to go . . . not only is it going to take us forever to find these demons, it’s also going to give people more time to grow suspicious of you.”

“I look human,” Kenma insists, shoving his hood down and pulling the sunglasses off to prove his point.

Tetsurou’s eyes widen, and he immediately grabs Kenma’s face in both hands, covering the faint marks on the edges of his face, as he looks around frantically for passers-by. Kenma makes a face and shoves Tetsurou’s hands away. His horns aren’t visible, his tongue, teeth, and ears are normal; his claws, wings, and tail are put away. The only thing that looks out of place is his markings, and he can hide the ones on his face behind his hair.

“Stop _worrying_ ,” Kenma snaps, his annoyance growing.

“Kenma . . .” Tetsurou looks back at him pleadingly.

“You think it not hard without you? I hate Hinokoku. I not want to go back. But you stifle me!” Kenma scowls, his head pounding with a growing ache. “I my own person. You said!”

Tetsurou grimaces. “I know, but—”

“But no. No buts. No more buts. I chose for myself what I do. And I do this. I help send Hinokoku demons back to Hell.”

Bokuto snickers. Both Tetsurou and Kenma give him withering looks.

“Sorry,” he says, unsuccessfully hiding another laugh. “I just . . . he said butts.”

“Seriously?” Tetsurou asks despairingly.

Kenma huffs, turning away.

“You guys aren’t being any fun,” Bokuto says, shaking his head. “I know! We should take a break. I’ll take you guys to see my new boyfriend. Well, he’s not my boyfriend yet, but I’m wearing him down.”

“You mean that guy you took out to eat once last week and who hasn’t agreed to go out with you since then?”

“Yep!” Bokuto says with a grin. “He’ll say yes soon, though. I can feel it. He likes me.”

Tetsurou sighs. “Sure, man, whatever. Let’s go meet your guy.”

Bokuto beams. “Awesome! You’re gonna go crazy when you see him. He’s _so_ hot.”

Kenma frowns. Tetsurou wraps his arm around his shoulder reassuringly. “No one’s more beautiful than Kenma,” he says.

Kenma makes a fart noise. “You try, but I still mad,” he says, even as he fights a smile of satisfaction.

“Yeah, if you have a _demon_ fetish,” Bokuto smirks, laughing and leaping away when Tetsurou makes a grab for him.

The two follow the loud hunter down the sidewalk toward a jewelry store. The sign above the door reads “Eastern Star Jewelers,” and the second Kenma steps inside he’s hit with a scent so powerfully familiar that it causes him to stagger.

“Whoa, hey, are you okay?” Tetsurou asks, wrapping his arm around his middle.

Kenma immediately pulls his hood and sunglasses back on, scanning the interior of the shop behind the safety of his disguise. There’s no way it’d recognize him like this, right?

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto calls into the store, arms in the air. “Akaaaaaashi!”

A dark-haired man at the register lifts his head. He raises an eyebrow and steps forward. As he does, the scent grows stronger. Kenma grips Tetsurou’s shirt, tugging insistently.

Tetsurou looks down at him, worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

“That him,” Kenma hisses under his breath. “Lord Akarsa. Hinokoku demon.”

Tetsurou starts in surprise, biting his lip, as they watch Bokuto approach Lord Akarsa. He grabs him by the hand and leads him over. Lord Akarsa moves stiffly, but he allows Bokuto to pull him to stand before Tetsurou and Kenma.

“Akaashi, this is my buddy Kuroo Tetsurou and his, uh, boyfriend Kenma. Guys, this is Akaashi Keiji,” Bokuto grins, looking for all the world like the cat that caught the canary.

Tetsurou clears his throat, bowing slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Bokuto can’t shut up about how hot you are.”

“Well, you are!” Bokuto exclaims, when Lord Akarsa (Akaashi?) gives him a look.

Kenma’s heart pounds in his ears. He feels dizzy, as he stares at the demon that used to own him. _He doesn’t recognize me. He doesn’t recognize me._

“Would you like to purchase any pieces?” Akaashi asks, his voice low and silky smooth.

Kenma trembles against Tetsurou. He feels the urge to run, but simultaneously he feels the need to drop to his knees in front of the demon, to beg for forgiveness for disappearing, for staying away so long, to offer himself to his Master . . .

He shakes his head quickly to clear it. He doesn’t belong to anyone anymore. He doesn’t have to do that anymore.

“No, that’s okay,” Tetsurou says, and if he’s nervous his voice betrays nothing. “We just stopped in to say hey. Bokuto wanted to introduce us.”

“And I wanted to ask you to dinner tonight,” Bokuto says, wagging his eyebrows. “Whaddya say?”

Akaashi purses his lips. He glances over his shoulder to where a few employees have emerged, watching the exchange with intense curiosity. With a tight smile, Akaashi turns back to them.

“That would be nice,” he says.

“Hoot!” Bokuto exclaims. “Awesome! I’ll pick you up at six!”

“I must return to work,” Akaashi says, inclining his head to Tetsurou and Kenma. “Goodbye.”

Kenma waits until his back is turned before fleeing the store. He hears Tetsurou call after him, but he keeps running until the scent has faded, and he no longer feels the uncomfortable pull in his abdomen. He doubles over, panting, as Tetsurou and Bokuto catch up to him in front of a park. Kenma straightens slowly, staring unseeing at the playground where a few children are playing under the watchful eye of their adult supervisors. _Parents,_ his mind corrects him. _Humans have parents._

“Dude, what was that? Are you okay?” Bokuto asks, bewildered.

Tetsurou lays his hand against Kenma’s back, peering into his face. “Kenma?”

“Lord Akarsa,” Kenma mutters. “Akaashi is Lord Akarsa. Hinokoku demon.”

“What?!” Bokuto yelps. “No way! I’d know if he was a demon!”

Kenma glances sidelong at him. “I smell him. Know his scent better than anyone. It him. My Master.”

“Wait, wait,” Tetsurou says, even as Bokuto shakes his head. “I thought your master was Malikra.”

Kenma closes his eyes, inhaling slowly in an attempt to remain calm. “Malikra give me to Lord Akarsa. Gift for victory in battle. I belong to Lord Akarsa many decades. Only stop when Tetsurou call me away.”

“There’s no way in hell Akaashi is this Lord Akarsor or whatever,” Bokuto insists. “Why would he be pretending to be human? Why would he go on a date with me?!”

“I not know,” Kenma says, gritting his teeth. “But I know I smell him correctly.”

“Yeah, well, maybe your nose is fucked up or something,” Bokuto grumbles.

Tetsurou pinches the bridge of his own nose. “Let’s not talk about this here. Let’s go back to the house. Maybe Oikawa and Iwaizumi can help sort this out. They both know more about Hinokoku demons.”

“I from Hinokoku,” Kenma reminds him pointedly.

Tetsurou looks down at him apologetically. “I know, but it doesn’t add up. We can’t just accuse a businessman of being a demon. We need to think of a plan.”

“There’s not going to be a plan, because Akaashi isn’t a demon,” Bokuto says, his expression dark, as he frowns at Kenma.

“Let’s just go,” Tetsurou says tiredly.

Kenma stomps ahead, shoving his hands into his pockets. He understands why Tetsurou and Bokuto may be hesitant. Lord Akarsa is excellent at disguise, and he has his Voice, as well. But Tetsurou should believe him, at least. He knows Kenma wouldn’t lie about something like this . . . doesn’t he?

Bokuto’s still pouting when they get to the house. Kenma can’t _really_ blame him. If he thought Akaashi was some beautiful human that stole his heart, discovering the truth must be difficult to swallow. But he has to believe the truth. Otherwise, things could get very bad very quickly.

Kenma’s seen Lord Akarsa at its worst. He’s seen the demon wreck havoc in battle. If it’s here for nefarious purposes, the human population of Tokyo could be in grave danger.

Tooru and Hajime are home, and they call out greetings as the three enter. They’re seated at the kotatsu, looking over a map of Tokyo. Research for a mission Tooru and Tetsurou received yesterday. Hajime offered to help, while Tetsurou took Kenma and Bokuto on their search.

“Tetsu-chan!” Tooru looks up with a grin. “We figured out the best way to . . .” He trails off, as he takes in their individual expressions. His grin disappears, and he raises an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“Kenma thinks Bo’s crush is a demon,” Tetsurou says, collapsing on the couch with a sigh.

“Not demon. _Lord Akarsa_ ,” Kenma reiterates, shrinking in order to perch on the couch’s arm-rest. He leans over his hands, shaking his body, as he allows his demon features to manifest. It’s a relief, relaxing back into his true form. It takes a lot of concentration and effort to maintain a human appearance, and he’s grateful whenever he can shed it in the comfort and safety of his home. As much as he wants to be human, wearing human skin is very uncomfortable.

“Who’s Lord Akarsa?” Tooru asks, glancing between the three of them.

“Kenma’s master from Hinokoku,” Tetsurou says.

Hajime’s eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

“But it’s not true,” Bokuto says insistently. “I would know if the guy I like was a demon. I’m not an idiot.”

“Lord Akarsa good at disguise. Has powerful magic voice,” Kenma says. “Very tricky.”

“Before we go storming into a respectable business accusing people of being demons, I just want to make absolutely sure that you’re right about this,” Tetsurou says.

“You not trust me?” Kenma asks with a frown, glancing sidelong at him.

“It’s not that, I just—”

“If you trust me, you believe me,” Kenma says, his frown deepening. “Akaashi Lord Akarsa, Lord Akarsa Akaashi. We banish it before it kills humans.”

“Kenma, it’s not that simple.”

“It simple. You just not want to hurt your human friend,” Kenma says flatly, hopping off the couch. He makes to storm toward the bedroom, but Tooru catches his arm, pulling him to a stop.

“Hey, now, let’s all calm down,” he says. “Kenma, I know it must be frustrating, but is there any chance you could be wrong about this?”

Kenma jerks his arm away. “I smell it. I smell it every day in Hinokoku. It mounts me, and I pleasure it. Every day, I smell it. I not wrong.”

He sees Tetsurou wince out of the corner of his eye, and for a brief moment he feels guilty for saying such things so bluntly, but it’s the truth, and he’s frustrated.

“Okay,” Tooru says slowly, holding up his hand in a placating gesture. “Okay. But we still can’t just storm the place. I’m sure there are humans working there, and attacking a powerful demon in the middle of a business isn’t smart. We need to make a plan.”

“No,” Bokuto says, standing abruptly. “You all might believe him, but don’t forget he’s a demon himself. He could be lying for some reason. It’s his word against Akaashi’s, and Akaashi hasn’t done anything bad or wrong. Why would he go out with me, a Demon Hunter, if he’s a demon? Wouldn’t he want to kill me?” He holds his hands out to the side.

Kenma hisses, and Tetsurou frowns.

Tooru taps his chin. “You make a good point,” he says. “It doesn’t make sense for a high level demon like that to be interested in a Demon Hunter, but there could be something else going on here. If a demon is posing as a businessman, there must be a reason. Before we go attacking anyone, we should probably find out that reason first, right?”

He looks over at Kenma. “We’re not dismissing you,” he says. “But you have to understand; the way things work around here is that you need proof of something before you can act. Even if you’re right, if we go in without a proper investigation, the Coven Council could take away our licenses. We gotta be smart about this, Kenma. But I promise we’ll look into it, okay?”

Kenma huffs, realizing that no matter what he says it won’t change their minds. They can’t smell Lord Akarsa. They don’t know the demon’s tricks. It truly is his word against Lord Akarsa’s, and that’s a battle Kenma isn’t entirely sure he can win.

“Okay,” he says shortly, because he can’t say anything else, and he storms off to the bedroom without another word, slamming the door shut behind him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tetsurou enters a few hours later, finding Kenma hidden deep beneath the covers, shrunk to the size of a kitten. His smallest size.

“Hey,” Tetsurou says gently, peering into the dark of Kenma’s hiding place. “Can you come out, please?”

Kenma buries his face in the sheet over the mattress, curled into a tiny ball. Tetsurou sighs, reaching for him. He doesn’t grab him, simply turns his hand over, palm up, and waits. Kenma bites his index finger. Tetsurou hisses softly, but he doesn’t pull back. Finally, Kenma sighs and crawls into his hand.

Tetsurou draws him out slowly, setting him on top of the blankets. “Kenma, I love you. I believe you smelled what you said you did. But without proof . . . Bokuto isn’t going to let us do anything without proof, and neither will the Council, for that matter. Bokuto said he’d let us look into Akaashi’s past and figure out where he came from, but we’re not going to confront him directly until we have evidence.” He bites his lip. “This is the plan, right now, and I don’t want you to do anything else, okay?”

Kenma digs his claws into the blankets, scratching hard enough to tear a few long holes in it. Tetsurou sighs.

“Kenma, please.”

Kenma grows to his usual size, scratching bigger holes into the blanket. He knows he’s being a brat, but he’s hurt and frustrated, and he needs to take it out on _something_.

“Kenma, stop,” Tetsurou says pleadingly, grabbing his wrists and holding them gently. “I know you’re mad, but this is the best we can do right now. The best I can do. I’m sorry if that disappoints you, but my hands are tied.”

Kenma leans toward him. “We go,” he says. “We go to Lord Akarsa and make him tell us its plan. Evidence.”

Tetsurou sighs. “No.”

Kenma snatches his hands away and turns his back on Tetsurou.

“Kenma, if he’s really who you say he is, he’s an incredible powerful demon. I don’t . . . I’m a fucking good Hunter, but without backup, I don’t know if I’d win against him.”

Kenma turns back around swiftly. “I your backup,” he says, tapping his chest. “I fight with you.”

But Tetsurou’s already shaking his head. “No, absolutely not.”

“I can fight!” Kenma insists, crawling into Tetsurou’s lap and grabbing his shoulders firmly. He shakes him slightly. “I fight with you!”

“Do you even know how to fight?!” Tetsurou asks frantically. “You were a pleasure demon, Kenma! You said yourself all you did every day was let that bastard fuck you!”

Kenma sits back with a frown, his chest twisting painfully, as Tetsurou grimaces. He reaches up to rub his forehead wearily.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, and he sounds tired, defeated. “I didn’t . . . You know I don’t care about that.”

“I not that demon anymore,” Kenma reminds him quietly.

“I know; I know you’re not.” Tetsurou drops his hand helplessly to the side. “I’m sorry. I just . . . I’m not going to lose you because I let you fight when you don’t have the right training. I’m not going to let that happen. If anything happened to you . . . Kenma, I—”

Kenma leans forward to kiss him. He curls his fingers into Tetsurou’s shoulders and presses his lips against his with almost bruising force. Tetsurou’s hands tremble, as he grabs Kenma’s hips and pulls him closer. He leans into the kiss, returning it with something akin to desperation. Kenma moves one hand into his hair, gripping it gently, as he tugs Testurou’s head back, breaking the kiss.

Tetsurou opens his eyes, breathing heavily, a flush rising on his cheeks. Kenma leans forward again to nip lightly at his lower lip, catching it between his sharp teeth and listening to Tetsurou’s sharp intake of breath.

“I not helpless,” he says firmly, looking into Tetsurou’s eyes, as much as he can with the human’s hair covering most of one. “I survive with Hajime in Hinokoku desert. We fight many Hell Beasts. All kinds. We survive.”

Tetsurou swallows hard. “Fighting beasts is different than fighting Class 4 demons and above,” he says weakly.

Kenma gives his hair a sharp tug. “But I still fight. I still survive. Understand?”

Tetsurou bites his lip, nodding. “I understand,” he says softly. “You’re not helpless.”

Kenma shakes his head. Tetsurou moves one hand to the small of his back, running his fingertips up the line of Kenma’s spine, causing him to shiver. He shakes his head again, whipping his tail around to wrap it around Tetsurou’s wrist, moving it off his back.

“I still mad,” he says, not wanting Tetsurou to think he wasn’t anymore.

“I know,” Tetsurou says with an apologetic half-smile. “You’re just so beautiful. I can’t help myself.”

Kenma huffs, fighting the warmth that spreads through him at that statement. He’s not quite successful, because he feels Tetsurou chuckle, as he turns his face away. He then feels Tetsurou’s breath, warm and damp, against the side of his neck, as he presses a slow, wet kiss against it.

Kenma closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Tetsurou murmurs against his skin. “Do you forgive me?”

Kenma wrinkles his nose. “Maybe.”

Tetsurou laughs. “Just maybe?” He tilts his chin to take Kenma’s ear between his teeth, nibbling on it gently. “Can I make it up to you?”

Kenma shivers again. “. . . Maybe.”

“Tell me what to do,” Tetsurou says, running his tongue along the shell of Kenma’s ear. “What do you want?”

_Lord Akarsa back in Hinokoku where he can’t hurt the people I love._

Kenma closes his eyes with a soft sigh. “You,” he says, thinking that’s the half-truth, anyway.

“You have me,” Tetsurou says immediately, moving his other hand up Kenma’s back to hold the back of his neck. He tilts it back, allowing him more access, as he kisses a line down the side of it. “You always have me.”

Kenma bites the inside of his cheek, as he releases Tetsurou’s other hand and allows him to turn him around, allows him to press him into the mattress, as his lips continue down his body.

_But for how long?_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s after midnight when Kenma rises from the bed. He spares a glance toward Tetsurou, takes a moment to look at him sprawled naked on the mattress, tangled in the sheets and torn blanket. Kenma hesitates, his heart pounding rapidly against his ribs.

_I don’t want anything to happen to you either._

Bending down, he presses a soft kiss against Tetsurou’s forehead. The human doesn’t stir, and Kenma carefully opens the window as silently as he can, slipping outside and shutting it behind him.

If no one will take action against Lord Akarsa before the demon hurts someone, Kenma will do it himself.

He knows going into this alone is stupid, but he can resist the thrall of Lord Akarsa’s Voice. And even though the demon’s scent is powerful, Kenma’s positive that he’s strong enough to resist his baser instincts, as well. He’s not that demon anymore.

All he has to do is stab the demon in the heart. He can use the barbed tip of his tail. Lord Akarsa will be banished back to Hinokoku, and everyone will be safe from whatever scheme it’s planning.

The streets are quiet, almost eerily so. Kenma walks a good ten minutes before he remembers that he can fly. Spreading his wings, he takes off into the dark sky, sticking to the shadows of the buildings to stay hidden from any human that might still be awake. The night air is cool, a welcome relief from the heat of the summer sun, but by the time Kenma reaches the jewelry store, he’s shivering, still not completely used to this dimension’s changing weather. He should’ve grabbed some clothes before he left.

The store, of course, is closed. But as Kenma investigates the outside of the building, he finds a vent in the alleyway beside it that appears to lead to some kind of basement. Shrinking down as small as he can, Kenma pries open one side just enough to slip through.

It is a basement, filled with shelves that hold boxes labeled in Japanese. Kenma drops to the floor and grows to his normal size, inspecting the boxes in the dim light as best he can. _Rubies, emeralds, pearls, sapphires . . ._

Kenma realizes this must be inventory. He’s dismissing investigating these, when he hears a voice. Crouching down, he crawls along the floor until he reaches the end of the shelf. He peers around it.

In the center of the room there’s a pentagon on the floor, surrounded by lit candles. Kneeling in the center of that is a young human man with short brown hair, cut even shorter in the back and sides. His eyes are closed, and his hands are extended over a line of sparkling jewels placed on a velvet cloth. He’s muttering something, a spell. Kenma can’t make it out.

Shrinking further down, he creeps closer. What is a human boy doing muttering spells in the middle of the night? Did Lord Akarsa compel him to do this? Is this a part of a scheme?

Kenma’s so focused on getting closer to understand what spell the human is casting, he doesn’t realize his tail has brushed against a candle until it falls over with a small _clatter_.

Kenma freezes, looking around for some place to hide, but it’s too late. The young man yelps, having seen him. Kenma leaps into the air, flying toward the vent. The human shouts a spell, and a bolt of electricity hits him. Kenma cries out, as pain ripples through him. He hits the floor with a hard _smack_ , the wind knocked out of him.

Before he can shake off the pain, a bubble of magic encases him, trapping him on the floor. He hisses, turning around to see the human pull a phone out of his pocket, his eyes wide.

“Uh, yeah, Akaashi-san? I’m sorry to call you so late but, uh, I’m at the shop and there’s a demon here.”

Kenma’s heart pounds faster in his chest. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to run into a human, much less get caught by one. He scratches at the side of the bubble desperately, but the magic is strong and doesn’t even ripple.

“Yeah, it’s small. Has a tail and horns and wings . . . claws I think? And there are these weird tattoos on it, too.” The human squints at him. “Yeah, it does have a diamond on its forehead. How did you—hello? Hello? Huh.”

The human closes the phone and pockets it, tilting his head as he looks down at Kenma.

“I don’t know what you’re doing here, but Akaashi-san will take care of you. So just sit tight.”

Kenma sits back on his heels, hissing under his breath.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


	4. The Captive and the Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating goes up for this chapter!
> 
> ((there are suggestive themes throughout, but to skip the smut, stop at "Akaashi can only nod" and resume at "Akaashi falls back against the bed"))

When Akaashi was Lord Akarsa and won his victory over Lord Rakita’s army to secure Lord Malikra’s territory, he received five demons as gifts. Three were warriors for his army, one was an imp prepped to be a delicious meal for Lord Akarsa and his officers, and one was a pleasure demon known only as Thirteen.

Akarsa had a few pleasure demons already and quite enjoyed their company. But Thirteen was different from the rest. It wasn’t as passive as the others. It didn’t adhere to Akarsa’s rules and rituals. It was disobedient and lazy, and for a while Akarsa wondered if he had displeased Lord Malikra in some way, to receive such a gift.

Konika suggested harsh punishment, even death, for the disrespectful demon. But after the third time Thirteen stayed in its chambers and refused to perform, Akarsa went to it personally to find out what was wrong.

He still remembers that night, that night that changed everything. Thirteen was supposed to perform in the victory mount. It was tradition that after every victory, Akarsa would hold a banquet and mount one of his pleasure demons on his throne, as his officers mounted their own. It was an orgy of great revelry and indulgence, but whenever he called for Thirteen, it refused to show.

This was the third time it happened, and so Akarsa left his banquet and went himself to see what was going on.

There were no guards in front of the chamber. Pleasure demons are bred for the sole purpose of pleasing their masters. They have no other desire and reside in their masters’ palaces willingly. Thirteen had made no attempt to flee or return to Malikra, and this was part of what perplexed Akarsa.

He found Thirteen curled into a ball on its bed, tail flicking back and forth agitatedly. As soon as Akarsa walked into the room, however, it scampered off the bed, prostrating itself on the floor in front of him.

“So, you are respectful now, yet you refuse to heed my summons?” Akarsa asked, brows raised.

Thirteen’s slender body trembled slightly, but its face remained pressed against the floor. Akarsa sighed, crouching beside the demon and grabbing one of its horns to lift its head. The large golden eyes stared up at him for a moment, before skittering to the side.

“Why do you disobey me?” Akarsa asked.

“Too many,” Thirteen mumbled, black claws scraping against the red dirt beneath it, as it curls its fingers into fists.

“Too many?”

“I don’t . . . like it when they watch . . .”

Akarsa was so surprised, he almost laughed. “You’ve been refusing to come to me because you are shy?”

Thirteen frowned. “Lord Malikra always mounted me in his chambers. I pleasured him there, just the two of us. I don’t like others watching. I don’t like it.”

Akarsa sat back on his heels. “Well, if that’s all . . .” He gestures to the bed. “I will mount you here, then. And when I summon you, it will be to my chambers. Will you obey me, then?”

Thirteen nods, scraping sharp pointed teeth across its lower lip.

Akarsa found himself stroking the demon’s head, between its horns, and Thirteen purred, closing its eyes and leaning into his touch.

Later, Konika scoffed at him for allowing a pleasure demon to dictate how it performed, but Akarsa didn’t seem the harm in allowing Thirteen to be comfortable. And it proved to be quite skilled, better than any other pleasure demon Akarsa indulged in. Akarsa and Thirteen spent nearly every night together, after that, and a bond grew. Akarsa began to neglect his other pleasure demons in favor of Thirteen. It was unconventional, perhaps, but every Greater Demon had a favorite pleasure demon. Akarsa didn’t see the harm in it.

Then the day came when Akarsa woke to an empty bed. Thirteen had vanished. He searched the palace, sent Hell Hounds to track it down, but there was no longer any trace of it. It was like Thirteen had never existed.

That was when Akarsa realized that some human must have summoned it.

He refused to pleasure himself with any other demon for a long time, after that. Konika called him soft, told him to forget about Thirteen. He had plenty more pleasure demons, and Konika could get him more, if he wanted. Eventually, Akarsa did move on, but he never forgot about Thirteen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Akaashi stands in front of the basement door, bracing himself. He isn’t sure how Thirteen will react to seeing him again, especially if it’s been living with humans this entire time. He wonders what it’s doing here, of all places.

_Did it sense my presence? Did it come back for me?_

He grimaces inwardly at how sentimental that sounds. But, still . . .

He pushes open the door and descends down the steps into the basement. Komi is standing with his arms crossed, studying the demon trapped inside a magic bubble. Thirteen crouches there, hissing, its tail flicking back and forth. Komi looks up when Akaashi approaches him.

“Do you know what this thing is?” he asks, gesturing to the bubble.

“It’s a pleasure demon,” Akaashi says, studying Thirteen. It hasn’t changed at all since the last time Akaashi saw it. But why is it looking at him so warily? It should be overjoyed to see him.

Komi’s eyes grow wide. “Uh, ahaha, so like . . . a sex demon?!” His voice squeaks on the words.

Akaashi resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes, Haruki. A demon designed for sex. There are quite a few of them in Hinokoku.” He pauses. “As I’ve read.”

Komi scratches the back of his head. “What’s a sex demon doing around here? I’m pretty sure I didn’t summon it on accident or anything.”

“No, your pentagram is for infusing magic into objects, not summoning demons,” Akaashi assures him. He approaches the bubble, crouching down in order to be eye level with Thirteen.

It shrinks against the back of the bubble, drawing its legs up and wrapping its arms and tail around them. Akaashi frowns.

“That will be all, Haruki,” he tells Komi, keeping his voice light and unconcerned. “You should go home.”

“Uh, are you sure? If I leave, the bubble’s gonna drop. I’m not strong enough to keep it up all night.”

“I can create a new one,” Akaashi says dismissively, waving his hand. “Goodnight, Haruki.”

“Uh, yeah. Goodnight.”

Akaashi waits, as he listens to Komi ascend the stairs. When the basement door closes behind him, the bubble drops. He reaches for Thirteen, but it scrambles away from him. Unfurling its wings, it leaps into the air, flying toward a vent in the wall. Akaashi stands quickly and extends his hand, shouting a spell.

The magic hits Thirteen on the back, and with a small cry it falls, writhing in pain. Akaashi shakes his head, as he approaches it.

“I didn’t want to do that,” he says in their language. “Why do you flee? Do you not recognize me?”

He kneels beside Thirteen, holding his fingers out beneath its nose. It trembles at his scent, but it closes its eyes and presses its face against the floor.

“I searched for you,” Akaashi admits, placing his hand against the back of Thirteen’s head and stroking its golden hair, trailing his fingers down Thirteen’s spine, between its wings, to where its tail sits above its ass. It trembles again, as Akaashi takes hold of its tail and gently strokes down the length of it. “I sent my best Hell Hounds. When they couldn’t find your sent, I realized what had happened.”

He tilts his head, taking Thirteen’s shoulder and turning it over to see its face. “You’ve been with the humans for so long . . . what did they do to you?”

Thirteen frowns up at him, fingers curling into fists. “I’m happy here,” it says, gaze flickering to the side. “I like the humans. Some of them.”

Akaashi shakes his head. “The humans hate our kind. They either use us for our power or they kill us. Has the human that summoned you fucked you so many times that you’ve forgotten that?”

Thirteen’s cheeks turn lavender, and its frown deepens. “It’s not like that. Tetsurou loves me.”

“Oh, he loves you.” Akaashi laughs, incredulous. “Humans don’t love us. We are nothing but tools to them, or monsters. And they are nothing but pests to us. We are stronger than them, more powerful. You do not belong here, with them. You belong to me.”

Thirteen shakes its head. “No.”

Akaashi stares. “Excuse me?”

Thirteen sits up, shaking its head again. “I don’t belong to you anymore. I belong to myself.”

Akaashi frowns. “You were taken from me. That human _stole_ you from me.”

“Maybe.” Thirteen looks to the floor. “But I like it here. I don’t want to go back.”

Akaashi grabs one of its horns, forcing its head back to make it look at him. He leans in close, until their faces are inches apart. “Do you really think you can resist me? My scent calls to you. I am your Master. Your body was created to need me, to _want me_. You think you can resist your very own nature?”

Thirteen’s trembling once more, tail flicking back and forth quickly, as it squeezes its eyes shut and bites down on its lower lip so hard black blood begins to well up. Akaashi watches in wonder and confusion. This isn’t right. None of this is right. Thirteen should be begging for him, right now. It should be scrambling to get Akaashi’s clothes off in order to pleasure him.

Akaashi moves one hand down, slipping underneath Thirteen’s ass to finger the hole between its cheeks. Thirteen whimpers softly, and Akaashi doesn’t need to enter it to feel how wet it is. Thirteen’s desire drips onto his fingertips, coating them and leaking onto the floor.

Yet Thirteen doesn’t move. Blood slides down its chin, but it refuses to turn around, refuses to offer itself to Akaashi, despite how badly its own body wants to.

Akaashi pulls his hand away with a frown. “I do not understand. This shouldn’t be possible.”

Thirteen opens its eyes, and its pupils are dilated, glassy with need. All it has to do is submit. It would be the easiest thing. Yet it continues to resist. Akaashi’s never heard of such a thing.

“What has happened to you, Thirteen?” Akaashi wonders aloud.

“Kenma,” Thirteen gasps.

Akaashi tilts his head. “What was that?”

“My name. My name is Kenma.” It’s no longer biting its lip, and somehow it’s stopped trembling. It stares Akaashi down, until Akaashi feels something akin to anxiety shiver through his chest.

_That’s not right. I shouldn’t be intimidated by my own pleasure demon._

He stands swiftly and waves his hand over Thirteen. A new bubble appears, thicker and stronger than the last.

“You will remain here until you realize your place,” he says. “And if you think your little human friends will come save you, remember what you are. No human is going to risk their life for something like you.”

“Tetsurou will,” Thirteen says flatly, lying back down and closing its eyes. “He loves me.”

“Love is a useless emotion that makes one weak,” Akaashi says flatly. “You will realize this when I kill your Tetsurou.”

“Not if he kills you first.”

Refusing to be unnerved by that, Akaashi turns and walks away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So, uh, is the sex demon just gonna . . . hang out down there?” Komi asks the next morning.

“I haven’t decided yet what to do with it,” Akaashi says absently. “And keep your voice down.” He glances toward the couple lingering over the ring section. The male has his hand around the female’s waist, and Akaashi feels something twist in his stomach. He remembers Thirteen’s words from the previous night, how adamant it’d been about its human master’s love.

_It’s not even possible for a human to love a demon, or vice versa._

“Shouldn’t we just . . . turn it over to the Coven Council?” Komi asks, lowering his voice to just above a whisper.

“I’m curious as to its origins. It didn’t tell me why it was trespassing here, and I’d like to know if we are under any threat. It could have been sent as a spy from another coven.”

Komi blinks. “You think any of the covens would use _demons_ to spy on us?”

“I’ve heard a few interesting stories about The House of the White Rose . . .”

“Oh, yeah, _them_.” Komi makes a face. “They’d totally pull something like that.”

“Akaashi-san,” Konoha steps over to them. “I’d like to speak to you privately, please.”

Akaashi pats Komi’s shoulder. “Why don’t you help that couple? Don’t worry about the basement. I’ll take care of everything.”

Komi nods, and Akaashi steps to the side with Konoha, already knowing what his partner is going to say.

“If you are going to caution me about Thirteen, please do not.”

“You should’ve let me kill him back in Hinokoku,” Konoha hisses. “He’s only ever caused trouble for you.”

Akaashi looks away, watching Komi interact with the couple. His expression is bright, and he gestures with his hands as he talks. It’s a rather endearing trait.

“Akaashi,” Konoha says sharply.

Sighing, Akaashi turns back to look at Konoha. “I will deal with it,” he says flatly.

“You were always too easy on Thirteen,” Konoha says, shaking his head. “It is not irreplaceable.”

“Neither are you,” Akaashi reminds him, waving him off, as he approaches the front to greet a new customer.

The truth is, he doesn’t entirely know what to do about Thirteen. He doesn’t want to kill it. He wants it to realize that it’s better off in Hinokoku with him. It doesn’t belong here with these humans. Already they’re starting to corrupt it with delusions of love and self-ownership.

They all have their place, their duty, their purpose for which they were created. Thirteen’s is to pleasure Akaashi. Akaashi’s is to serve Malikra. It’s a chain that cannot, should not, be broken.

He’s still contemplating the matter when Bokuto picks him up for their second date. It was supposed to be the previous night, but Akaashi had panicked at the last minute and canceled. He’s not sure why he’s agreeing to go now, but questions are stirring in his mind after his conversation with Thirteen.

“You okay, ‘Kaashi?” Bokuto asks, after they’ve walked in silence for some time.

“I am fine,” Akaashi says absently.

Bokuto huffs softly. “Sorry if I put you on the spot yesterday with Kuroo and Kenma. I just really wanted them to meet you. Well, Kuroo really. I don’t know Kenma that well.”

Akaashi purses his lips. _Kenma_. That’s what Thirteen wanted him to call it. He thought that name sounded familiar.

If Thirteen and its human master are acquaintances of Bokuto’s, that could pose a problem.

“Yes, well, I do not enjoy surprises, but it’s fine. No harm done.”

“Maybe not for you,” Bokuto says, and Akaashi realizes he’s sulking now. Before he can ask if anything’s wrong, the human continues. “This is completely ridiculous. I shouldn’t even be asking you this.”

“Asking me what?”

Bokuto puts his hand on Akaashi’s arm, bringing them both to a stop. “You’re not . . . you’re not a demon, are you?”

Akaashi’s blood runs cold. He manages to keep his features expressionless, as he stares back at Bokuto. “Why would you ask me something like that?”

Bokuto runs a hand through his spiked hair. “Something Kenma said . . . I don’t know, he’s suspicious of you or something. He thinks you might be a demon.”

Akaashi’s heart pounds faster in his chest. “I see.”

“I totally don’t believe him, by the way. There’s no way you’re a demon. I mean, I’m a _Demon Hunter_. I would know!”

“Did Kuroo-san believe him?”

“I don’t know,” Bokuto slumps. “He’s going to look into your background, though. Just to be sure. I’m sorry. I tried to convince him not to.”

Akaashi stares, mind whirling. He and Konoha covered their tracks pretty well as far as their backstories, but if anyone looked deep enough . . .

“What would you do if I were a demon?” he finds himself asking.

Bokuto blinks at him, before laughing nervously. “But you’re not, right?”

“Would you kill me?”

Bokuto swallows hard. “But you’re not. You’re not a demon.” He shakes his head emphatically.

“Please answer the question, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto throws his arms out to the side. “I don’t know! I mean, I’m a Demon Hunter. I’m _supposed_ to hunt and kill demons.”

“So you would attack and kill me right now, if I admitted to being a demon?”

Bokuto whines softly. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s a simple question, Bokuto-san.”

“No, it’s not! Because I _like_ you, Akaashi.”

“But you said yourself, you’re supposed to hunt and kill demons.”

Bokuto flings his hands into the air. “You haven’t done anything to hurt me! And I have no proof that you’ve ever hurt anyone! So no, I wouldn’t just attack and kill you. I would . . . I don’t know! Hand you over to the Coven Council for investigation, I guess! Or something. I don’t know!” His voice cracks, and he lowers his hands, clenching them into fists.

Akaashi studies him, notes the beads of sweat on his brow, the way his heart is pounding rapidly, the anxiety in his eyes. He’s truly conflicted, Akaashi realizes. He wouldn’t just attack him simply for being a demon.

_That’s not how it’s supposed to work._

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi says, following a pause. “I upset you.”

Bokuto turns away, and his shoulders slump. “I think I want to go home now,” he says, his voice subdued.

Akaashi bites his lip. A strange sensation enters his chest. An unfamiliar ache. “Bokuto-san . . .”

“I’m not going to be a very good date right now.”

“Bokuto-san.”

Reaching out, he takes Bokuto’s hand. He knows he shouldn’t care about a human’s feelings, yet he can’t bring himself to let Bokuto walk away like this.

Besides, it’s better for the mission to remain on good terms with him, right?

Bokuto looks back at him miserably. “Please tell me you’re not a demon,” he says softly.

It would be the easiest thing in the world to lie. It should be easy. Akaashi has lied to every other human he’s met in this world. It’s simple. All he has to say is, “I’m not.”

But then he imagines Bokuto’s expression when he discovers the truth. When the moment comes when Akaashi must betray him.

_He’ll be devastated._

He’ll be devastated either way, he realizes.

So he does something inadvisable and probably stupid, but it’s the only thing he can think of to keep Bokuto longer, if only for a little while.

He kisses him.

Bokuto stiffens, caught off guard. Akaashi moves his free hand into Bokuto’s hair, tilting his head to press deeper into him. This close, Akaashi can hear the blood rushing through Bokuto’s veins, the rapid beat of his heart, the way his breath catches in his throat at the first point of contact. His skin is warm and soft, and after his initial shock, Bokuto releases Akaashi’s hand in order to wrap both arms around him, returning the kiss with a hunger that surprises Akaashi.

He finds himself matching that hunger, meeting Bokuto in his lust. He wraps his other hand around the back of Bokuto’s neck, and presses his tongue against the human’s lips. Bokuto opens for him with a groan of desire that sends a shiver down Akaashi’s spine. Inside, his mouth is warm and wet, and his tongue rises to meet his, squishy and strange, yet Akaashi finds himself enjoying it.

It’s different. He rarely kisses anyone. His nights with Konoha or his pleasure demons are usually direct and to the point. More often than not he’s only looking for release, with them, so it’s rare for him to initiate something intimate like this.

Akaashi’s head spins, as Bokuto presses harder into him, forcing him back against the front of the building beside them. He slots his leg between Akaashi’s, his thick thigh forcing them apart. Akaashi gasps, unused to being handled in this way. He leans his head back, as Bokuto breaks away in order to attack his jaw and neck with nips and sucks and open-mouthed kisses.

He forgets why he initiated this, the reasoning behind it. He knows it’s a bad idea, but he can’t bring himself to make them stop.

_This is a human. Humans are beneath us. Humans only want to kill us._

Bokuto’s hand moves down his side, pushing up his shirt in order to caress the skin of his side. It’s warm, his palm broad and rough with callouses. He’s latched onto a spot on Akaashi’s neck, and he’s started to suck hard and fast, rocking slightly into him, so that his thigh presses up against Akaashi’s crotch.

Akaashi bites his lip, stifling a moan that still sounds softly at the base of his throat.

He’s grateful for the dark, keeping them half-hidden beneath the shadow of the building. But even so, he can feel this gravitating toward something quite indecent. Reluctantly, he rests his hands on Bokuto’s shoulders, pushing him back.

“Bokuto-san,” he pants. “W-We need to stop. We’re in public.”

Bokuto stares back at him, his breaths coming short and quick, pupils dilated wide in his golden eyes. He swallows hard then, stepping back and looking around. He turns back to Akaashi and holds out his hand.

Akaashi stares down at it.

“Come on,” Bokuto says breathlessly.

Akaashi takes it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bokuto’s apartment is small, really only large enough to hold one person. There’s a couch in front of a TV, and above the couch mounted on the wall are swords of varying shapes and sizes. There are dumbbell weights in the corner, along with a punching bag hanging from a hook in the ceiling. The kitchen area is open to the living room, and the island counter has a single chair beside it.

Bokuto leads him past all this, past the tiny bathroom and toilet, into the bedroom. There is a large bed to the left and more weapons mounted on the wall above it. There are swords, guns, whips, and pikes. Across from the bed on the right is a dresser with a large mirror set above it. The closet is on the other side of that, and there’s a lamp by the window directly across from the door.

Akaashi doesn’t get a chance to observe anything further before Bokuto descends on him, hands cupping his face, as he kisses him. This time it’s long and slow, lingering sweetly before he pulls away.

“Is this okay?” he asks, eyes searching Akaashi’s.

Akaashi can only nod. Bokuto kisses him again, then, harder this time, as his hands wander down to start unfastening the buttons of Akaashi’s shirt.

Akaashi’s heart pounds loudly in his ears, as he allows Bokuto to strip him. His own hands find their way to Bokuto’s clothes, removing them piece by piece, lingering across muscles hardened by continuous use, broad shoulders, a slightly extended stomach. Bokuto huffs a soft laugh when Akaashi runs his fingers along the hairs beneath his navel.

“Tickles,” he grins.

Akaashi wonders how anyone, human or demon, can be so sexually attractive yet endearing at the same time. He shoves his hands against Bokuto’s chest, pushing him back against the bed. Bokuto falls with a bounce, grabbing Akaashi as he straddles him and pulling him down to kiss him again, fingers traveling across Akaashi’s cheek and into his hair.

He murmurs softly in the kiss, saying something so indistinct even Akaashi’s advanced hearing can’t pick up on it. He decides it probably isn’t important, and kisses Bokuto harder, nipping his lower lip and pushing his tongue into his mouth when he gasps.

With one hand he reaches down between them, taking hold of Bokuto’s half-hard cock and giving it a few quick strokes. Bokuto grimaces, breaking the kiss as he tilts his head back with a groan.

“Akaashi,” he gasps, fingers curling into Akaashi’s thighs.

Akaashi sits up, continuing to stroke him, running his thumb along the tip until he feels beads of pre-cum forming. He watches the flush of heat rise on Bokuto’s chest, watches it color his neck and ears, as his fingers dig deeper into Akaashi’s thighs.

“How do you want it?” Akaashi asks quietly, changing his grip and slowing down, pulling lazily and enjoying how Bokuto whines in protest.

“However,” he gasps. “I don’t care.”

“Mm, you want me to take you all the way like this? Do you want me to suck you dry? Fuck you? Ride you?”

“F-fuck, Akaashi,” Bokuto groans, biting his lip. He opens his eyes to look up at Akaashi, his gaze half-lidded and dark with anticipation. “D-do whatever will make you feel good, too.”

Akaashi raises an eyebrow. “How accommodating.” He moves his grip down to the base of Bokuto’s cock and squeezes. Bokuto gasps, his hips jerking off the bed slightly. “What if I want to make you beg?”

Bokuto whimpers. “Th-that’s good too,” he says weakly with a shaky grin. “Whatever you want.”

Akaashi snorts softly. He looks over Bokuto’s form slowly. His muscles are quivering, his cock dripping, but he remains still, waiting for Akaashi’s cue. Akaashi looks around the room, remembering something about humans.

“Where are your condoms and lubricant?”

Bokuto’s eyes widen. “O-oh yeah. Heh. Top drawer on the left.”

Akaashi releases Bokuto, getting off the bed and opening the top left drawer of the dresser. Among the pairs of boxer-briefs there, he finds a box of condoms and a plastic tube. He grabs a condom and the tube before returning to the bed. He straddles Bokuto once more, opening the condom and rolling it onto Bokuto’s erection. Bokuto shudders at his touch, and again when Akaashi coats him with the lubricant.

He positions himself above him, then, and lowers down until he can feel the Bokuto’s tip press against his entrance. Bokuto grabs his hips, stopping him.

“Wait, wait, don’t you need to like . . . prepare yourself?” he asks, eyes wide.

Akaashi smirks. “I can take it,” he assures him.

“But—”

Akaashi sinks down, and Bokuto’s protest ends in a loud groan.

“F-fuck!” His hands tremble against Akaashi’s hips.

Akaashi bites his lip, readjusting carefully as he continues to lower himself down. The stretch is painful. Bokuto is larger than Konoha. But Akaashi welcomes the pain. He rarely chooses penetration. Never with his pleasure demons simply because their bodies are made to be penetrated only. But he has experimented in the past and found that he enjoys the pain that comes with it. As a Greater Demon, he heals quickly, and his tolerance for pain is high. It dulls to an ache after only a few minutes.

“Fuck Akaashi, you’re so-so tight,” Bokuto gasps, grimacing.

“I know,” Akaashi says lightly, as he begins to rock his hips forward and back, lifting off Bokuto’s cock before sinking back down onto it in a steady rhythm.

Bokuto moans, shifting his hips up toward Akaashi in an attempt to move with him. Heat flares within Akaashi, as he enjoys the feeling of Bokuto inside him. It tingles along his skin, prickling sensations of pleasure that heighten the more he moves. Bokuto pants beneath him, his skin glistening with sweat, eyes closed, lips parted.

Akaashi finds himself bending forward to kiss those lips, licking past them with a low moan. Bokuto’s hands shift to his thighs, gripping so tightly they’re sure to leave a bruise before Akaashi can heal. Akaashi doesn’t care. He kisses him for a long moment before leaning back and picking up his pace.

He rocks harder, faster, and the blood rushing through him sends an ache between his thighs, as his own cock begins to leak, throbbing for attention. He pays it no mind, and grabs hold of Bokuto’s hands on his thighs to keep them there, lest he get any ideas.

He’s saving that for later.

“Fuck, fuck, Akaashi, _shit_ ,” Bokuto gasps, back arching slightly off the mattress. “I’m not . . . I’m not going to last much longer.”

“That’s okay,” Akaashi murmurs, keeping up the quick pace. His entire body feels like it’s on fire, and the ache has spread through him. He closes his eyes, enjoying the delicious sensation. It’s painful, but not unbearably so. It’s just enough to send shivers of pleasure down his spine.

“You’re so tight, _fuck_!” Bokuto shouts, as he trembles. His body stiffens, as he comes, groaning loud and long, before he finally relaxes, panting.

Akaashi moves off him, carefully removing the condom and tying it off. Bokuto peeks over at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Hey, wait,” he says, reaching for Akaashi’s arm. He sits up on his elbow. “You didn’t come yet.”

Akaashi looks down at his flushed erection, before looking back into Bokuto’s face. “No, I guess I didn’t,” he says lightly.

Bokuto grins breathlessly. “You want me to help you with that?”

“I want your mouth.”

Bokuto blinks, before laughing. “Wow, you’re really blunt, huh?”

Akaashi tilts his head. “Is that a problem?”

Bokuto grins again. “Not at all.”

He slides off the bed, kneeling in front of Akaashi, who spreads his legs in order for Bokuto to nestle between them. He runs his hands up and down Akaashi’s thighs for a moment, before taking the base of the erection in his hand. Akaashi inhales sharply, as Bokuto lowers his head, and fits his lips around the tip.

Akaashi’s head falls back, as he groans. The pleasure spikes through him, hotter than before, as Bokuto pushes further down, encasing him in slick, wet heat. For a brief moment, Akaashi remembers Thirteen, the way its small mouth worked on his cock, eager for his taste. He quickly dismisses this, lowering his head to watch the top of Bokuto’s head move, as he bobs up and down, dragging his tongue across the flushed skin.

“Bokuto-san,” he murmurs, threading his fingers into that wild black and gray hair.

Bokuto sinks further, taking him into the back of his throat and swallowing. Akaashi gasps, tightening his grip, even as Bokuto pulls back to suckle the tip.

Akaashi shudders, feeling the heat growing more potent, as pleasure tingles through him from head to toe. The pressure builds, and it’s not long before he curls over Bokuto’s head, crying out into his hair, as he reaches his climax. The orgasm is bright and intense, and he can feel it sparking through his entire body, his toes curling, his fingers clenching.

Bokuto pulls back. He grabs the used condom and walks over to the wastebasket by the bed, spitting into it and dropping the condom in afterwards. He wipes his mouth then, looking back at Akaashi with a grin.

Akaashi falls back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he fights to catch his breath. He can feel himself healing, the ache fading, and he wonders how long it’ll be before he realizes what exactly he’s done.

_There will be consequences to this . . ._

“Hey, hey, hey, Akaashi.” Bokuto flops down on the bed beside him, propping himself up on his elbow and resting his head in his hand. “That was pretty hot.”

Akaashi snorts softly.

“Don’t worry about before, okay? I’m over it. I know you’re not a demon.” He laughs. “A demon would have to be crazy to have sex with a hunter.”

“Yes, I suppose it would.”

He closes his eyes, knowing he should leave but not wanting to move.

“Um, you can stay here tonight, if you want,” Bokuto says after a moment. “I mean, if you have to go that’s fine but . . . I’m not going to kick you out or anything.”

“Mmm.”

He feels a soft pressure against his temple. When he opens his eyes, Bokuto’s leaning back with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry. You’re just . . . you’re really beautiful, you know that?”

Akaashi feels something unpleasant squirm in his stomach. _You wouldn’t think so if you saw my true form._

“I really like you, Akaashi . . .”

“So you’ve said.”

“But you never say it back.”

Akaashi turns his head to look at Bokuto. He looks hesitant, vulnerable, as his eyes search Akaashi’s for some kind of answer.

Akaashi wonders what he sees.

“You like me too, don’t you?” Bokuto asks softly.

Akaashi cannot lie.

“Yes. I do.”

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

“ _That’s_ a sex demon? Where are its boobs?”

“Way to be heteronormative, Washio.”

“I’m just _saying_ . . . I always thought they’d look like that Lust chick from _Fullmetal Alchemist_.”

“This just in, folks, Washio whacks it to anime ladies.”

“Shut _up_ , Komi!”

“Shh, shh, you’ll wake it up!”

“What do you think it’s doing here?”

“You think it’ll have sex with me?”

“Sarukui, if no human wants to have sex with you, what makes you think a demon will want to?”

“Har, har.”

“Also, gross, man, that’s a _demon_.”

“It’s cute!”

“Shit, I think it’s waking up.”

Kenma opens his eyes slowly, the whispers surrounding him growing irritating enough to wake him. He blinks rapidly, frowning at the circle of faces peering in at him from outside the bubble. There are four of them, each staring with varying levels of intrigue. The one closest to the bubble is Haruki, the one that caught him last night. He’s watching Kenma with wide eyes, and he leans back slightly, as Kenma sits up and approaches the front of the bubble.

“Let me out,” he says, scratching at the magic surrounding him.

The group jumps in surprise.

“It can speak Japanese?!” the one to the left of Haruki squeaks, and Kenma recognizes his voice as Sarukui’s.

“Dude, that means it heard you wanting to have sex with it,” the tall one on Haruki’s left says. Washio.

The fourth human snickers into his hand, and Sarukui slaps him upside the head. “Shut it, Onaga!”

Kenma bangs his fist against the bubble. “Let me out!”

“Whoa, hey calm down,” Haruki says quickly, holding up his hands. “Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I can. This isn’t my magic.”

Kenma lowers his fist, growling under his breath. He looks around at the four humans, wondering if any of them knows Tetsurou. Should he risk it? If Akarsa finds out, he could kill them for helping him. But he can’t go back to Hinokoku. He can’t.

“Find Tetsurou.”

“Who?” Sarukui asks, tilting his head.

Kenma grits his teeth in frustration. “Tetsurou! Tall human. Scary smile. Bad hair.”

“Uh, we see a lot of humans in the store every day,” Washio says apologetically.

Kenma closes his eyes, doing his best to remain calm. “Kuroo Tetsurou. Hunter. House of Eastern Star.”

“Wait, you mean _Kuroo_ Tetsurou?” Onaga asks, and the other three turn to look at him. “You know, that guy from Twitter. There was a rumor going around that a Hunter named Kuroo Tetsurou fucked a demohhh shit.” He turns to look at Kenma, wide-eyed. “That was you?!”

“The rumors were true.” Sarukui stares into space, eyes glazed over.

“No fucking way,” Haruki says, shaking his head. “This is crazy! Like, what are the odds?”

Kenma bangs against the bubble with his fist once more, bringing their attention back to the important matter at hand. “Get Kuroo Tetsurou. He come get me. Take me away.”

“Wasn’t that guy put on probation because of you?” Washio asks skeptically. “What’s he doing still keeping you around?”

Kenma throws his hands in the air. “It not matter! Get him, he get me, I not here anymore. All problems solved, see?”

“It probably _isn’t_ a great idea to keep it down here,” Onaga mutters to Haruki.

“Akaashi-san said to keep it here for now until he finds out what it was doing down here,” Haruki says hesitantly.

Kenma realizes that Akarsa has them all thinking he’s one of them. A human. Harmless. He growls in frustration, pressing both fists into the unyielding bubble.

“You not listen to Akaashi,” he says firmly. “He not good. He—”

“What do the four of you think you’re doing?”

A new voice cuts Kenma off, and five pairs of eyes turn toward the staircase, where a man with sandy-colored hair stands, one hand set casually in the pocket of his slacks. His relaxed posture belies the sharpness of his gaze and the warning in his tone.

“Konoha-san!” Haruki scrambles to his feet. “We were just, uh . . .”

“There are customers waiting upstairs,” Konoha says. “I suggest you all go do your jobs before you lose them.”

Kenma’s visitors scramble to their feet, bowing apologetically, before scurrying up the stairs. Konoha doesn’t follow them. Instead, he descends the stairs slowly, eyes on Kenma. Something about him seems familiar in a way that causes Kenma’s chest to tighten.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?” Konoha asks, as he approaches the bubble. “I suppose you wouldn’t. I’m rather good at these human disguises.”

His features flicker, revealing curling horns, bright red eyes, and swirling runes marking the sides of his face from jaw to temple. Kenma shrinks back in the bubble.

“Konika,” he murmurs.

Konika raises an eyebrow, as his disguise shifts back into place. “You remember.”

Kenma frowns. “Are you here to kill me?” he asks in his own language, recalling the many times Konika looked at him with disgust and irritation. The lieutenant never liked Kenma. He hated the bond Kenma shared with his Lord Akarsa, hated how Akarsa favored him. Now that Kenma’s more aware of the wide range of human emotion, he wonders if Konika had been jealous.

“I should,” Konika says flatly. “You’re a liability. A distraction Lord Akarsa doesn’t need. But . . . he’s fond of you, and I’m treading on thin ice as it is, with him.”

He steps closer to the bubble, peering in at Kenma. “What are you doing here?” he asks, his eyes narrowing.

Kenma’s nails dig into his palms painfully. “I could ask you the same,” he deflects.

Konika blinks, straightening with a laugh. “You always were insolent,” he says, shaking his head. “We don’t have to explain ourselves to _you_ , imp.”

Kenma bristles at the insult. Imps are unintelligent creatures, used mostly as pawns on the battlefield, cannon fodder. They’re sometimes eaten, as well, by the Greater Demons. That’s how insignificant they are.

“Tetsurou will stop you,” Kenma says flatly.

Konika smiles. “Your human doesn’t even know what we are, or what’s coming. Everything’s already in motion. So just sit back and enjoy the show~”

With that, he turns and leaves. Kenma sits back on his heels, biting his lip and hoping at least one of the humans that were there earlier will search for Tetsurou and tell him where he is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He dozes on and off throughout the day, not having anything else to do. He knows Tetsurou will be looking for him. Surely he’ll consider the store as a point of interest.

So what’s taking him so long?

Akarsa returns that night. He looks flushed and disheveled, much like Tetsurou does after he and Kenma make love. Kenma sits up slowly, watching him warily. He remembers what happened the last time they spoke. He doesn’t want a repeat of that.

To his surprise, Akarsa waves his hand over the bubble, causing it to dissipate. Kenma jumps to his feet, but before he can flee, Akarsa grabs one of his horns, holding it firmly. Kenma freezes, trembling, as he catches Akarsa’s scent, and that familiar ache forms low in his abdomen.

“Tell me,” Akarsa says softly. “What drew you to your human?”

Kenma blinks, surprised by the question. “What?”

Akarsa moves closer, and Kenma tries to back away, but he’s immobilized by the tight grasp on his horn. The scent is almost overpowering now, and Kenma feels his body responding to it. That deliciously painful need to pleasure his master, to taste his seed, to feel the incredible rush of his climax pulsating through him. He digs his nails into his palms once more, a different pain shocking him enough to somewhat clear his mind.

_I don’t want him. I want Tetsurou. I love Tetsurou. I’m not this demon anymore._

“How did you come to care for your human?” Akarsa reiterates. “Your kind . . . your kind isn’t supposed to desire anything but the pleasure of your masters. My kind . . . my kind isn’t supposed to want anything but the destruction of humans. My mission is to assist Lord Malikra in taking over this dimension. I don’t care about the humans inside of it. They can all turn to dust. I will not bat an eye. But there’s this one human . . . if he were to die, I think it would upset me. Why?”

Kenma bites his lip. “Not all humans are worthless,” he says. “Some are good. They help each other. Take care of each other.”

Akarsa tilts his head. “Your human . . . he takes care of you better than I did?”

Kenma’s gaze skitters to the side. It’s difficult to concentrate. He can feel himself growing wet, and it’s an uncomfortable sensation with nothing to penetrate him. He flicks his tail back and forth, digging his nails further into his palms.

“He does not treat me like an object. He treats me like a human.”

“I treated you the way you were meant to be treated,” Akarsa says with a frown. “Better, even.”

Kenma shakes his head, struggling to breathe against the tightness in his chest. “You were . . . good to me. But he loves me.”

“How is it different? What’s the difference between being treated well and being . . . loved?”

Kenma shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he admits. “It’s just different. It feels different. It’s . . . better.”

Akarsa sighs, and Kenma can tell he’s unsatisfied with this answer. He releases Kenma’s horn, and Kenma’s legs give out beneath him. He falls to the floor, gasping. He knows he should attempt to fly away, but he’s afraid if he moves he’ll crawl toward Akarsa instead of the door. He squirms, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest, as the ache grows stronger.

Akarsa watches him impassively. “You continue to resist your very nature,” he murmurs. “Why?”

Kenma turns his gaze toward the floor. “I don’t want to be a pleasure demon anymore. Besides, if I let you mount me, it will hurt Tetsurou,” he admits.

“He can summon another pleasure demon,” Akarsa says dismissively.

Kenma presses his cheek against the floor, closing his eyes. “No,” he says. “He only wants me.”

“You sound so sure of this.”

“He loves me.”

“Again with that word.”

Kenma wrinkles his nose, not sure how to make Akarsa understand what love is. Kenma doesn’t entirely understand it himself. He just knows how he feels, and how Tetsurou feels. He’s seen the evidence, experienced it.

“It’s like . . . when you’re together . . . you’re the only ones that matter in the whole world. You want to be together forever. You don’t want them to be hurt or sad, and you do everything you can to make them happy. You would do anything for them. You would die for them.”

“It’s pointless to sacrifice your life for a race that is perpetually rotting and dying every day.”

“When you love . . . that doesn’t matter.”

“It makes no sense,” Akarsa mutters, frowning at his fingers that twist together in front of him.

Kenma sighs, limbs twitching, as he continues to hold himself in check. He hopes Akarsa will leave soon. He’s not sure how much longer he can withstand this.

“Please go,” he finds himself whimpering, biting his lip so hard he can taste blood.

“You’re close to breaking, aren’t you?”

Kenma doesn’t respond, afraid of the answer.

“It’s well within my right to mount you right now,” Akarsa says pointedly. “And it would bring us both relief.”

Kenma trembles, fear gripping his chest, because he knows it’s true. The worst part is, Kenma would welcome it. He would revel in the pleasure, in the release. He _yearns_ for it.

_But not with him. Not anymore. Only Tetsurou._

“But somehow . . . I think Bokuto-san would be disappointed if I did.”

Kenma grows still. _That’s what all this is about?_

Akarsa waves his hand over Kenma, and the bubble reappears. Kenma gasps, as the scent disappears, and he feels the ache alleviating. He’s still wet, but that will go away too, eventually. He squeezes his eyes shut, tears burning the corners of his eyes.

“When Lord Malikra’s work is done here, you and I will return to Hinokoku,” Akarsa says. “Things will go back to the way they were. Things will make sense again.”

It almost sounds as though he’s trying to convince himself of this.

Kenma doesn’t move, doesn’t look up, until he hears the sound of footfalls walking away from him. Slowly, his breathing evens out, and he uncurls his hands. They sting, black blood welling up in the pinpricks he created with his claws. He licks them clean. As he does, he wonders if Konoha knows that his general is falling for a human.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Humans with magic have auras that burn brighter than those that don’t. It can act as a shield, if harnessed correctly. Or it can act as a beacon, if one knows how to tap into it. Kenma can’t feel anything from inside the bubble. He’s tried reaching out for Tetsurou’s aura, over and over again he’s tried, but nothing can get through the walls around him.

Until after midnight, when he feels a surge of magic so strong, it wakes him from his sleep.

A golden light has encased the bubble. It’s moving across it, shimmering, crackling like lightning. Kenma watches, wide-eyed, as it tries, and fails, to bring down the bubble around him.

“Come on, come on.”

It’s Tetsurou’s voice, muttering in frustration. Kenma hops over to the wall of the bubble, banging on it with his fists.

“Tetsurou!”

The magic disappears, revealing Kuroo Tetsurou himself standing in front of him, chest heaving with exertion, sweat shining on his face. He drops to his knees beside the bubble, lifting his hands to press against it. Kenma places his hands in the same place, wishing he could reach through and grab Tetsurou’s.

“You find me,” Kenma says, both elated and confused. “How you find me?”

“I knew you had to be here,” Tetsurou says breathlessly. “When you disappeared . . . I knew you’d done exactly what I told you not to do, but I couldn’t just storm the place looking for you. Oikawa helped me hack into the security system. We had to figure out a way to get me in here without tripping any alarms. I’m sorry it took so long.”

“You not mad?” Kenma asks hopefully.

“Oh, I’m furious,” Tetsurou assures him. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? But I don’t have time for a lecture right now. I have to get you out of here.”

Kenma shakes his head. “It no use. Lord Akarsa make it. Very strong. I try everything.”

Tetsurou runs his hand through his hair, scruffing the back of his head. “There’s got to be a way to get this down.” He looks over the bubble, pressing against it with his hands. It doesn’t budge.

“Get Tooru and Hajime,” Kenma says. “Maybe all three work.”

“Oikawa’s keeping an eye on the cameras, and Iwaizumi’s watching the door . . .”

Kenma gives him a pointed look. Tetsurou sighs. “Right, yeah, I know there’s no point if we can’t actually get you out. I’ll get them.”

He stands, but before he can do anything, he’s blasted to the side by a bolt of red lightning. Kenma’s heart stutters in his chest, as Konika materializes in front of him.

“I thought your little human friends might pull something like this,” he says, eyeing Tetsurou on the floor, as he coughs and pushes himself upright.

Kenma breathes a quiet sigh of relief. He doesn’t look injured. He glares at Konika, as he jumps to his feet.

“Take down that bubble, or I’ll banish you back to Hell.” Tetsurou pulls a pistol from the back of his jeans, pointing it at Konika.

Konika raises an eyebrow. “You really think that little thing can hurt me?” he asks with a laugh.

“I’m thinking the silver bullet inside will, yeah.” Tetsurou raises his arm to aim the barrel directly between Konika’s eyes. “Let Kenma go.”

Konika shrugs. “This works better for me, actually. Now I can kill two birds with one stone.” He holds up a glittering ruby in one hand. “Get it? Stone?”

“Seriously?” Tetsurou asks, incredulous. “I thought only villains in movies made stupid puns like that.”

Kenma thinks Tetsurou’s one to talk about stupid puns, but he keeps his mouth shut, for now.

“Actually, it doesn’t quite work because I’m not going to kill you with this,” Konika admits. He smirks. “I’m going to do something far worse.”

He holds out the stone toward Tetsurou and says a spell. Kenma’s eyes widen, as a portal appears, tearing through the center of the room between Tetsurou and Konika. Through the portal, Kenma can see a desert of red sand, black gnarled trees clumped together in the distance. His eyes widen.

“No!”

Before Tetsurou can react, Konika flings the portal forward. It engulfs Tetsurou completely, winking out of existence a moment later. Kenma stares at the spot where Tetsurou just stood, his chest aching.

“Now, to deal with you,” Konika says, turning toward him.

Kenma glares back at him, white-hot anger burning through him. He throws himself forward against the wall of the bubble, shrieking so loudly the lights above them burst. Shards of glass fall around Konika, but he simply lifts the stone once more.

“Word of advice? Kill the human as soon as you get there. You know it’d be far worse to let him live.”

The portal reforms, and Kenma finds himself falling through space and time, his skin shivering as it freezes and then defrosts almost instantaneously. He squeezes his eyes shut, until he feels hot, rough sand pressing into his cheek.

When he opens his eyes and sits up, his heart sinks, as nausea swirls inside him.

For miles all around him there’s nothing but red sand. A warm breeze blows by, picking up particles and scraping them against Kenma’s skin. Behind him, he hears a cough. He whirls around quickly to find Tetsurou kneeling in the sand, holding the collar of his shirt over his nose and mouth. He squints back at Kenma through the mini sand storm, and when it settles, Kenma flings himself forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Tetsurou’s neck.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says desperately, knowing that it’s only because of him that this happened.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Tetsurou says, gripping him back firmly. “We’re alive. We can figure a way out of this.”

Kenma squeezes his eyes shut, remembering Hajime, burnt and blistered, dehydrated to the point of nearly dying.

But he had been to Hinokoku before. He’d experienced the climate, the creatures. He knew how to survive in a place like this.

Tetsurou doesn’t.

Kenma buries his face in Tetsurou’s neck, his chest aching as he realizes the awful truth of their situation.

If they don’t find a way out within the next forty-eight hours, Tetsurou is going to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited this half-asleep at 2am so I apologize for any glaring errors.
> 
> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


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